


The Ricking Twenties

by gothboobs



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothboobs/pseuds/gothboobs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and Morty AU - 1920's Gangster Universe. Rick is a dangerous and frightening mob enforcer for the Citadel Crime Family, Morty is a poor orphaned paperboy. When Morty saves Rick's wallet from being stolen, Rick takes pity on him and gives him a new job working for him and living with him. Between brutal hits on rival alien gangs, hooch runs and hookers, Rick and Morty discover they don't feel as alone in the world when they're by each other's side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Job

Rick breezed by the homeless begging for money on the sidewalk outside his “office,” and stomped inside. The warehouse was dimly lit by the sunshine that managed to stream through the skylights and dust that floated in lethargic patterns in the still air.

Rick straightened his suit jacket and frowned down at his prisoner. Bolted to a chair, the enormous purple alien angrily glared up at Rick and growled.

“F-feel like talking, princess?”

The alien spat off to the side, a mixture of saliva and blue blood. Last night Rick had spent several hours beating him into submission with a combination of a baseball bat and brass knuckles, but so far he had managed to keep his mouth mostly shut. Rick had managed to wrangle a few secrets out of him thus far, but the location of Capone’s liquor storage was a secret he was willing to die for, because if Rick didn’t kill him forcing it out, Capone would kill him for telling.

“I already told you I don’t know nothin’ for nothin’.” The alien narrowed his eyes at Rick, “Capone will make you pay for this.”

Rick yawned and pulled a cigar from his breast pocket, lighting it, inhaling deeply and thinking for a moment before replying tersely: “Capone is a sack of shit.” Breathing out a cloud of thick smoke, Rick shrugged, “I’m disappointed you don’t feel l-like talking, I e-even b-b-brought along a nifty little conversation partner for you.”

Rick snapped and from the darkness, two mob hands dressed in identical black suits with homburgs pulled low over their eyes emerged, grasping a squirming, young purple alien between them.

As they came into view, Rick’s prisoner gasped and strained against his bonds, his swollen, bruised face contorting into a mask of fury and fright. He called out in his native language to the child of his species but only managed to get a word or two out before Rick punched him savagely, “Ah, ah, ah, l-let’s stick to English, shall we? O español supongo…but none of that baloney you’re speaking.”

 Rick puffed on his cigar as he stood beside his seated captive and tapped the ash off onto the floor, “Curious thing about y-your species…veryyy fragile joint ligaments.” He nodded at his mob hands who each grasped one arm of the young purple alien and began to tug in opposite directions. Even a tiny bit of pressure caused excruciating pain, and the alien kid shrieked.

“STOP!” The alien pulled again against his binds, his breathing hoarse and strained, “H-how did you—”

Rick stuck his cigar back in his mouth and motioned for his associates to stop pulling, “How did I know you have a daughter? How d-d-did I know where to find her?” He chuckled darkly, “I didn’t make up my nickname…I _earned_ it.” With one hand, he yanked his captive’s head backward up toward the ceiling, and taking his cigar out of his mouth with his opposite hand, he tapped his ash off into the alien’s face, “Now, I’m sure you can remember the question from last night, but for posterity, I’ll ask again: where is Capone keeping his hooch stored?”

The alien coughed roughly at the ash that was sprinkled on his face, and then glared with wild eyes between his daughter, and then Rick, and then back again. There was no good choice for him. As he hesitated and tried to figure out his answer, Rick grew impatient and nodded at one of his men. “Donald, I know you haven’t visited this shithead’s planet before, so why don’t you take a little souvenir from his daughter there?”

“Oh sure, thanks, boss.” Abruptly, Donald ripped the alien girls arm off right from her shoulder socket. Blood burst from the wound in a torrent of blue, and the little alien’s face paled as she opened her mouth and let loose a cochlea-crushing scream.

“PLEASE!” Tears streamed down the face of Rick’s captive as he shook, “I’ll tell you, I’ll talk, I’ll talk, just-please-oh my zorb, don’t hurt her!”

Rick snapped his fingers, “We’re listening, hurry up!”

The alien groaned in defeat, “The boss has all deliveries shipped upstate, and he keeps them at Whitemoore Farm. When we distribute, he sends it to the old cathedral at 5th and 18th street, or to the morgue downtown. The…the morgue has been a front for Capone for years…”

“See?” Rick smacked him on the back and chuckled in a sing-song voice, “Secrets, secrets, are no fun, unless you share with everyone. Don’t you feel better?”

“Let my daughter go!”

Rick ignored him and directed his comments to his two men, “I’m done here. Y-you boys finish up here and clean up. I want the bodies delivered to Capone’s doorstep by tomorrow morning.”

“NO! You—PLEASE, she’s a child!” The alien struggled and shook, attempting to drag the chair with him as Rick calmly began to stride out of the warehouse, “You don’t—”

Rick turned one last time and shrugged, “Shouldn’t have tried to muscle in on Citadel turf. Have a nice life…whatever’s left of it.”

Stepping back out onto the busy street, Rick puffed on his cigar and turned down the street with his hands in his pockets. Rounding the corner he spotted his favorite paper boy yelling exuberantly at passerby and waving rolled up papers around. His gaze roamed over the lithe teenage frame and his detail-oriented eyes picked up every minute aspect of his appearance. Morty must be enjoying a growth spurt because his breeches barely fit him. His shoes looked more worn than usual; and Rick noticed a hole in the toe of the left shoe. But what Rick was mostly focused on, was a dark blue bruise against the side of Morty’s jaw that peeked through the multiple layers of dust and grime that always coated the boy’s face.

“Morning, Mr. Sanchez!” Morty cheerfully trotted over when he noticed his favorite customer coming up the sidewalk. “Paper?”

Rick smiled indulgently down at the teenager and fished in his pocket for his money clip. He generally didn’t bother learning the names of the random street rats constantly underfoot in this neighborhood, but Morty had been working this same corner for years.

“Busy day today, Mr. Sanchez?” Morty neatly rolled up a newspaper and politely held it forward as he beamed up at the older man.

Locating his money clip, Rick emerged with a wad of cash and slowly peeled one dollar from the stack, “I’m always busy, M-morty.” Looking at the smiling teenager, Rick was momentarily distracted, and suddenly, a cold, dirty hand darted out from his right, snagged his money clip and snatched it away. Rick whirled around to see a filthy, bedraggled man tearing away down the sidewalk, Rick’s money clutched in his hand. Before Rick could even take one step forward, however, he felt a breeze as Morty dashed off after the thief.

Rick also gave chase, tossing his cigar over his shoulder as he and Morty pursued the beggar through the streets, twisting and threading their way through the crowd. Rick was fast, but Morty was faster, and Rick watched as he quickly caught up, but just as the thief was within his reach, he suddenly sprinted to an apartment building, and holding Rick’s cash between his teeth, began to rapidly scale the face of the building.

Rick fondled his pistol beneath his armpit but grimaced, it was never wise to attract attention with a gun in this part of the city, and the police already knew who he was…it wouldn’t due to cause a commotion. He decided that the money was long gone, but as he got closer, he watched as Morty suddenly threw down his bag full of newspapers, push the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, and climb up the wall right after the thief.

“Morty!”

If Morty heard Rick call after him, he gave no indication, and instead continued his dangerous chase up the sheer face of the building, digging his fingers into bricks and window ledges, gaining ground on his target. Finally within grasp, Morty reached up and grabbed the leg of the thief, earning himself a hard kick as the man struggled to get away. Ignoring the pain shooting across his eye, Morty scrambled up and spotting a fire escape off to the right and only a few dozen feet beneath them, he shoved the man hard, breaking his grasp from the wall and sending him falling onto the fire escape.

Rick watched with wide eyes, unsure of what to do as Morty jumped down onto the fire escape after the thief. A crowd had now gathered and was shouting and yelling as Morty and the thief fiercely fought each other. Managing to wrestle away the money clip, Morty dashed to the side of the fire escape, and spotting Rick in the crowd, held it aloft and called, “MR. SANCHEZ, SIR!” before chucking it with impressive accuracy right into Rick’s waiting hand.

Rick was about to run and help, but noticing policemen closing in, he pursed his lips in regret and faded back into the crowd.

He’d never admit it, but Rick fretted about Morty during the rest of the day, until finally, when he managed to get away from his illicit activities, he returned to the scene of the commotion, and after a few inquiries, discovered Morty sitting glumly in a dirty prison cell of the local police station.

As Rick entered, Morty jumped to his feet and a smile split his face as he walked to the bars. Rick motioned for Morty to be quiet with a finger to his lips and walked purposefully up to the desk.

“Why is that boy in jail? He stopped a theft.”

The bored clerk looked up from his paperwork and shrugged, “Caused a public disturbance. He’ll be released in twenty-four hours.”

“What’s his bail?”

The clerk raised an eyebrow, “Thirty dollars, but—”

Rick slapped the money on the counter and shoved his thumb over in Morty’s direction, “Alright, let me have him.”

“Sir, first you need to—”

Rick placed an additional twenty dollars on top of the thirty that sat on the counter and snapped his fingers impatiently, “Stop wasting my time.”

The clerk’s eyes sparkled and he immediately shut his mouth, and gathered up the money, surreptitiously setting some aside for himself. Smiling up at Rick he retrieved the keys, “Absolutely sir, sorry to keep you waiting.”

He opened the jail cell door and Morty bounded out, clasping his hands beneath his chin and staring up at Rick in awe, “Th-thank you for-for paying my bill, sir! I-I-I will do my best to-to pay you back, but—”

Rick grabbed him by the hand and pulled him outside where a sleek black Mercedes 24/100/140 PS waited for them. Morty sucked in a breath of surprise as Rick opened the back seat door and hustled him inside. Morty uncomfortably sat against the expensive leather and bit his lip. He was filthy and he knew it…he shouldn’t be in the car, he’d ruin it.

“Mr. Sanchez, I can walk, I’m-I’m dirty, I don’t want to—”

“Morty, _relax_ ,” Rick squeezed his shoulder, and wondered to himself at how the affectionate touch felt oddly natural. “I-I owe you, M-morty. Y-you saved me a’lotta dough today.” Noticing the boy’s discomfort, he snickered, “A lot worse things have been on these seats, doll, don’t worry about dirt.”

“O-okay…” Morty looked up at Rick cautiously, “Th-thank you— _really_ thank you for-for bailing me out…I d-don’t know if I would’a lasted the night with those toughs in there…”

“Least I could do.” Rick nodded at the driver and they took off down the street, “N-now where a-are your parents, th-they must be worried.”

Morty grimaced and chuckled darkly, “Heh, m-my parents are six feet under somewhere. I don’t even remember where…”

The grief that washed across Morty’s face pulled at Rick’s chest, but he bit back the emotion angrily and frowned, “Okay, wh-where do you live?”

Again, Morty chuckled, “Y-you know, Mr. Sanchez, y-you can just drop me off anywhere I d-d-don’t need you’re help…”

  
“Where do you live, Morty?” Rick’s voice took on the hard edge he used for interrogations, and like a magic spell, it worked. Morty blanched at the tone and leaned against the back of the car seat.

“I l-live on the street, okay?” He turned his head and continued as he gazed out the window at the buildings whizzing by, “I’m too old f-for the orphanage. A-and I can only keep about a third of what I make s-selling papers. Boss takes the rest as overhead. All the money I make working goes to food, but…” Morty’s voice trailed off, and when he continued it was barely above a whisper “N-n-not sure what I’m gonna do now though. If we get in trouble with the pigs we’re fired so…I probably don’t have a job anymore.”

As Rick listened his careful eyes once again took in Morty’s appearance but with more attention. True, the breeches were too small, but Morty barely filled them out. He really was dirtier than usual, his hair was a mess, and the shadows under his eyes looked like he hadn’t slept well in weeks. The memory of Morty running at breakneck speed rolled over in his head, and seizing upon the idea before he could talk himself out of it, Rick leaned forward and tapped his driver on the shoulder, “Home, D.” turning to Morty, he raised his eyebrow, “How w-would you like a new job working for me, Morty?”

Morty spun and stared, his jaw dropped open, “B-b-but M-mr. Sanchez, d-don’t you have to—I’m-I’m not—”

“D-don’t worry about Don Ricardo, Morty,” Rick smirked, “Th-they don’t call me Sanchez La Severa for nothing…” Folding his hands in his lap, Rick leaned against the car seat, “Payment will be 5 dollars a week, plus room and board; if y-you impress me, you might get a little bonus once in a while.”

“Well…” Morty chewed his lip. Rick Sanchez, also known as Sanchez La Severa or simply ‘La Severa’ was a well-known mob enforcer for the Citadel crime family. Although Morty had never witnessed any violence first hand, his reputation for being a ruthless, wicked, devious and fiendishly intelligent man was whispered in back alleys all over the city. He had always been kind to Morty, and often overpaid for his newspapers, unknowingly keeping Morty more well-fed than the other paper boys, but Morty wasn’t sure if it was the greatest idea aligning himself with one of the most dangerous men in the country. “Well…” Morty said again as he struggled to find the right words to say, “W-what would I be doing for you, Mr. Sanchez?”

“You will do anything I ask you to.” Rick’s hard eyes glared into Morty’s face as the teenager trembled at the information.

Morty was at a loss, but the promise of food and warmth and safety as the protégé of Rick Sanchez was too tempting to pass up. “I…I’ll do m-my best, Mr. Sanchez.”

“So we’re agreed?” Rick stuck his hand out for a handshake and flashed an evil grin at Morty.

Morty hesitated one final time before timidly placing his hand inside Rick’s. Rick’s palm was warm and strong and covered in calluses. The touch suddenly made his heart stutter in his chest and Morty felt his cheeks flush as he answered, “Y-yes, I accept your terms, Mr. Sanchez.”

“Call me Rick.” Rick shook Morty’s hand hard, delighting in the pink blush that danced along the teenager’s cheeks, “Just you and me, Rick and Morty, okay?”

“Yeah,” Morty suddenly smiled…it was the first time in _years_ that he had felt well…happy? Safe? Even…hopeful? “Yeah, Rick, sounds swell.”

The car pulled to a stop and as Morty climbed out of the car after Rick he felt his stomach drop as he gazed up at the largest house he had ever seen in his life. D, the driver flung his arm out with a flourish and intoned with a deep voice, “Master Sanchez, Master…” He glanced at Morty, and taking the hint Morty nodded,

“Oh, uh, Smith.”

“Very good sir. Master Sanchez, Master Smith…welcome home.”

Rick laid a heavy hand on Morty’s shoulder and steered him toward the front door. “L-let’s get y-you out of those clothes, Morty, they’re disgusting.”

The thought of Rick undressing him suddenly flashed across Morty’s mind and he felt his cheeks grow hot again. What in the world had he just gotten himself into…?


	2. A Sip, A Risk, A Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty proves his worth, Rick gets his hands on potent space cocaine, and Don Ricardo offers a tacit threat.

_Twelve Months Later_

Morty still wasn’t used to wearing a suit.

He adjusted the sleeves of his jacket in the mirror and frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Somehow he always looked like the poor orphan boy he knew he was playing dress-up, whereas Rick seemed to effortlessly and gracefully pull off the most elegant of formal dress wear.

Leaving his room, Morty hurried downstairs to where he knew Rick was waiting in the car for them to get going. A busy schedule full of threats and shakedowns undoubtedly awaited him today. Reflecting on the fact that it was close to a year since he had first stepped foot in the elegant manor, Morty grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl on the dining room table and hurried outside into the cool autumn air. Since Rick had first proposed the idea of taking Morty on as his protégé, Morty had been exposed to quite a bit more violence than he was previously used to. The very first day on the job Rick had forced Morty to hold two squirming little toddlers still as Rick and one of his “helpers” punished their father, a local shop owner, for being late paying his protection fee with a few broken ribs. 

That escapade had set the tone for the majority of his misadventures with Rick. As an enforcer, La Severa dealt with the worst, most uncooperative and shady individuals the city had to offer, and Morty’s moral code had been pushed rather far.

Climbing into the car, Morty was met by a stern glare from Rick who tapped D on the shoulder as a cue to start driving.

“Y-y-you know I don’t like b-being kept waiting, _Morty._ ”

The harsh tone would’ve sent Morty into shivers of fear, but after a whole year living with Rick, Morty tended to feel his pulse quicken instead of halt when Rick spoke to him.

“Sorry, Rick, I-I’m not that that good at putting suits on still—”

“If y-you keep me waiting again, I’ll-I’ll make you run errands with me _naked_ , Morty. D-don’t test me.”

“Hey, okay okay!”

Morty turned his face to the window to hide the deep blush that sprang to his cheeks at the thought of walking obediently after Rick down busy streets, naked as the day he was born. What had started as a perfectly domestic and professional relationship between employer and employee had…morphed over the months they spent together. At first Morty had assumed his achingly-deep crush on Rick Sanchez was one-sided, but with the amount of flirting he had to endure in their quiet moments together, he wasn’t so sure. 

“Look at me,” Rick demanded.

Turning back, Morty was surprised at Rick’s closeness as he leaned in to stare at Morty’s neck.

“I haven’t met a person before you who could so thoroughly screw up a bow tie, I declare…” Rick’s fingers darted forward and began to untie and retie the thin scrap of cloth beneath Morty’s chin. As his fingers brushed Morty’s skin, a thin hum escaped Morty’s lips before he could halt it.

Pausing to look up at his ward with a raised eyebrow Rick pursed his lips, “Jeez, doll, you’re so jumpy you’d think I’m tying a noose around your neck…”

Finished, Rick sat back again and observed Morty quietly. Uncomfortable with the amount of attention leveled  at him, a flustered Morty tried to cover for himself—“So Rick, where are we going today?”

“Upper East Side. One of my contacts said he had a little treat for me along with the regular shipment.”

Morty held back a grimace, Rick’s “contacts” were almost always terrifying looking aliens armed to the teeth with bad attitudes and big entourages. It was usually during these meetings that he also saw some of the _other_ Rick and Morty’s.

That had been the weirdest part of the entire year; learning about the multiverse and discovering that he wasn’t as alone in the universe as he supposed as an orphaned child…in fact there were thousands if not millions of copies of him all over the universe. Within the Citadel Crime Family there were a few dozen Ricks scattered throughout the city, country, and galaxy. As a trans-dimensional mob moving illegal substances as tame as human alcohol and as wild as Mxyzptlk Monkey testosterone, there was plenty of work to do.

“Nervous, kid?”

Morty realized he’d been silent for a few minutes after Rick had spoken. Shrugging he leaned back against the seat, “N-no, just thinking.”

“L-leave the thinking to me, Morty.”

Morty chuckled, “So if you’re doing the thinking, does that mean I g-get to do the punching now?”

“No, I do that too.”

“Then wh-what are you keeping me around for?”

Rick’s serious gaze shot straight through Morty, “You’re _supposed_ to be learning but perhaps I need to be stricter—”

“You’re strict enough!” Morty paled at the memory of the last time Rick had decided he needed more of a “physical” lesson.

Rick also leaned against his seat and rubbed his knuckles, “I dunno, kid…you take a punch like a bitch, I gotta train that out of you—”

“No, you—”

But before Morty could continue his protestations, Rick had grabbed him around the neck and was scrubbing his knuckles into the soft curly hair.

“R-relax, I’m joshin’ you, doll.”

Morty’s hands dropped to Rick’s ribs where he attempted to tickle his way out of Rick’s grip, but Rick was faster and twisted away, dragging Morty along with him as he continued his onslaught, “G-gotta be quicker than that Morty, c’mon, I’m-I’m an old man—”

Morty pushed his shoulders up and wriggled out of Rick’s grasp, turning and pinning Rick to the window with one arm as he tried to wrestle his other arm out of Rick’s grasp. He was so caught up in the playful roughhousing that once he was almost on top of Rick in the backseat, he was unprepared for Rick’s devilish grin and dastardly question:

“Well, now that you’re on top, what are you planning to do now, Morty?”

“I-I-I-I—”

“Oh, we’re here!”

Morty tumbled to the floor of the car in the backseat as Rick pushed him off and climbed out of the car. Picking himself up, Morty scrambled to catch up, and hurried after, trying to keep pace with Rick’s long, quick strides. They entered a lavishly decorated parlor, and from his first moments inside, Morty could already smell the cheap liquor from what was undoubtedly a hidden speakeasy somewhere behind a wall. About a dozen yellow centipede-like aliens filled the room, drinking and laughing, but falling silent as Rick and Morty entered. Among them, the largest alien of all, with a thick scarf tied around his head, was lounging across a couch, smoking pungent tobacco and stroking his stomach with one of his hundreds of arms. He chuckled as they entered, “A-ha, La Severa, you’re here!”

Rick tipped his hat politely, “Zic, Zic, Zic, my favorite dealer. I hope y-your trip to earth went well.” Placing his hand on Morty’s shoulder, Rick drew the boy to stand in front of him, “A-allow me to introduce my young associate, Morty.”

Zic eyed Morty and grinned, “A pleasure.”  Turning back to Rick he gestured at one of his men, “I’ve got your usual order, compadre, but I also managed to get my hands on some of this—” he held aloft a clear glass tin filled with navy blue powder that shimmered slightly in the light.

Rick’s eyes widened and Morty felt the hands on his shoulders grip tightly, “Astra dust?”

“In its purest form.” Zic smirked, “I’ve got about 6 kilos I can sell you. But the price is…rather steep.”

Rick’s hands left Morty’s shoulders as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigar, “Name it.”

“Two million creds.”

Lighting his cigar, Rick inhaled and puffing out a thick cloud of smoke he chuckled, “Must be good stuff, huh?”

“The best.”

Rick dragged on his cigar a second time and shrugged, “Pass. There’s not a big enough market on earth for A-dust, it’s not worth it.” 

“Well…” Zic’s oblong eyes turned to gaze at Morty once more, “I can be convinced to come down on the price…”

Rick gently took Morty by the arm and angled himself partially in front of Morty, blocking the teenager with his own body. Morty recognized the move from countless other times they had been in danger and instantly steeled himself. The switchblade in his pocket and the small, sleek pistol beneath his armpit suddenly felt warm and solid against his body as he silently took a count of the number of assailants in the room.

“Oh Zic,” Rick laughed, “As-as transparent as ever. Unfortunately, you know I pay cash only. Tell me what I owe you and I’ll be on my way. You can deliver my shipment as normal.”

Behind him, Morty could hear the tiny, almost un-hearable click of the door being locked. The shuffling of hundreds of feet peppered the room as centipede aliens subtly surrounded them. If Rick was nervous he didn’t show it, but Morty slowly inched his hand toward his pocket, mentally picking out his first target.

“I’m afraid that won’t do, La Savera,” Zic’s cordial tone had taken on a devious edge, as he smiled and licked his teeth with a long thin tongue, “Virgin blood that’s been aged longer than a decade is a rare commodity…you should’ve known I wouldn’t let that delicious little specimen leave without trying a taste.”

The sudden realization that _he_ was the one that Zic was implying be used for payment made Morty’s mouth dry up and he felt his heart jump into his throat, ready for a fight.

“There are plenty of virgin teenagers, you’re just too lazy to look for some. Rick tapped the ash off his cigar onto the floor, put it out, and tucked it back into his breast pocket. “Last chance, Zic. I’d rather not wrinkle my suit today.”

Morty’s sharp eyes caught the subtle movement of one of Zic’s many arms a second before Zic pulled a blaster from behind his back. Grabbing the knife out of his pocket, Morty sharply flicked his wrist, and the knife flew and landed in Zic’s wrist, pinning his arm to the couch behind him, as he dropped the weapon with a strangled yell.

Chaos erupted. Rick ducked and grabbed his gun as Morty, having already snatched his pistol out of his holster fired over his back. It was a maneuver they had perfected at this point. By standing in front of Morty, Rick made it appear to their enemies as if his young charge was helpless and frail, but nothing could be farther from the truth. In his year of adventures with Rick, Morty had at this point been strictly trained to ruthlessly and efficiently fight. He was smaller, faster, and more agile than Rick, with the added benefit of looking like an innocent child.

Kneeling to recharge, while punching an assailant in the head, Morty watched as Rick stood and provided cover fire while avoiding shooting directly at the angrily shrieking Zic.

After reloading his blaster pistol, Morty somersaulted to the corner of the room so he could put his back against the wall, and shot two aliens in the head, dropping them to the floor. His mind wandered back to the first week he’d been with Rick. After D had dropped them off on a side street, they had been unexpectedly accosted by a few rival gang members. Morty remembered Rick pushing him back behind him, but Morty had twisted away, grabbed a rock off the ground, and launched himself at the nearest thug, bashing his head in savagely before being pulled off. Despite their size, Morty had managed to take on the other two for a few minutes before Rick stepped in and definitively ended the fight. After chasing off the two assailants, Rick had leaned down, examined the thug lying still on the ground and commented with impressed surprise, “Y-you just killed a man with a rock, Morty.”

Morty walked away from the fight with a swollen lip, two black eyes, and a smile. Fighting had filled him with such a rush, and Rick had praised him for the rest of the day for his bravery and tenacity.

That night, as he was patched up by the live-in maid and nurse, Liza, she praised Morty as well, but also firmly instructed him:

“You did a swell job protecting Mr. Sanchez today, Morty.”

“Thanks, Liza.”

“Make sure you keep it up.”

“I—huh?”

Liza had paused in her administrations to stare solemnly at Morty, “Mr. Sanchez isn’t…a good man, but he’s a _great_ man. He likes you and he’s training you Morty—you repay him by defending him and his greatness with your life…do you understand?”

In that moment, Morty logically knew that such a request was outrageous, but somehow…it filled him with a sense of purpose. It’s true, he had naturally already put his life at risk helping Rick twice, first with the wallet, and then with the rival gang. It was an impulse for him, and at Liza’s urging, he decided to embrace it.

“Morty!”

Looking up, Morty caught sight of Rick pointing toward the fallen box of Astra dust.

“Grab it, before someone else does!”

Running and sliding on his knees, Morty snatched up the little glass box. The moment he dropped it in his pocket, he spied Zic retreating through a hidden door in the wall. Dashing after him, Morty wedged the box in the side of the door so he could escape again, and silently followed Zic down the dark hallway.

The alien was dripping blood, but by the time Morty made it into the clearing at the end of the hallway, all he found was an empty bar. In the center of the room, a pallet with various boxes stacked high was the only thing there, Zic was nowhere to be seen. Recognizing two of the boxes as holding the same blue powder, Morty holstered his pistol, glanced around, and picking up both boxes, hurried back through the hallway.

Bumping open the door with his hip, he was greeted by the sight of Rick casually smoking a cigar in a room full of dead bodies. 

“Ah, I was wondering where y-you went, Morty. I knew there was a hidden door in here somewhere, I’m glad you found it—”His eyes widened when he saw what Morty was carrying. “ W-well I’ll be damned!” Walking over, Rick sniffed at the box in Morty’s right arm and grinned, “I could kiss you, kid! Excellent work.”

Morty tried to pretend like he didn’t hear that, but he could feel his cheeks turning red. Thankfully, Rick turned on his heel, and stepping over bodies, made his way back out the door as Morty followed along after him.

* * *

That night after dinner, Rick pulled Morty by the arm into the parlor and pushed him into a couch before dropping down next to him cradling a bottle of amber liquid.

“Ever drink before, Morty?”

His pulse racing, Morty excitedly shook his head, “No, never!”

Rick handed him the bottle and stood back up, returning in a few minutes with a bottle of juice.

Sitting beside Morty again, he unscrewed the top of the bottle and sniffed it before handing it to Morty, “This is Cuban rum, M-morty…excellent stuff.”

Morty smelled it and grimaced. The scent alone burned his nostrils, but sitting  beside Rick he was determined to impress his mentor, and simply shrugged before passing it back, “W-what’s the occasion?”

Rick winked at him, “Y-y-you did real good today, Morty. That shit you stole for me…I’m gonna make a mint. You deserve to enjoy a few drinks, and ‘ole Rick is gonna teach you how to hold your booze.”

Handing the bottle of juice to Morty, Rick tipped the bottle back and swallowed a few mouthfuls before lowering it, licking his lips and handing it to Morty.

“Take a sip, and then sip the juice. It’ll-it’ll help the sting.”

Before his nerve could desert him, Morty tipped the bottle back and sipped. Rick watched as his face screwed up in distaste and laughed as Morty chugged the juice immediately after.

“L-little bitch,” He took the bottle back and drank more, god, this was good stuff, before handing it again to Morty who accepted it with only slight hesitation. 

They passed the bottle back and forth until it was half-empty and Morty was leaning against Rick’s side with an empty juice bottle clasped between his hands and a hazy, dreamy gaze plastered on his face.

“Rick?”

“Y-y-y-euurrpp-yeah, Morty?”

Leaning up to look in his face, Morty seriously asked, “Is uhh..is m-my virginity a danger to you?”

Rick almost choked on his sip of rum, “Wh-why the –euugh- hell are you asking that?”

“Well,” Morty’s pink cheeks flushed pinker, “C-cuz of what Zic was saying I guess…is me be-being a virgin going to give you trouble?”

“I—”

“B-because I don’t wanna give you trouble!” Morty’s little hand grasped the front of Rick’s shirt as he drunkenly leaned forward with an earnest expression.

Morty’s blushing face and little hands grabbing his clothes affected Rick in ways that he hadn’t experienced in years. A vision of Morty bent over the couch in front of him, all flushed pink and wriggling flashed across his brain and he had to physically shake himself to dislodge it. Forcing himself into ‘La Savera’ mode, he firmly pushed Morty’s hands off, and held them in his own.

“L-listen, y-y-you’re gonna –euurhghh- hear a-a lotta shit from a lotta p-people, Morty. Unless I say something is a problem, it’s n-not a problem, okay?”

Morty leaned closer, the lids of his eyes sagging, his little pink mouth hanging open, exhaling softly, smelling like rum and sweat and…apples? Rick wasn’t used to fighting temptation, and the temptation to stick three fingers in Morty’s open mouth just to hear him gag was all-consuming.

“R-rick, y-you should take it.” Morty pushed his face into Rick’s chest and mumbled drunkenly, “Y-you shoubb tayybb my virginiby.”

“ _What._ ”

But the telltale snore of a tipsy idiot who just passed out was the only thing that came from Morty’s mouth.

“Lightweight.”

Carefully picking him up, Rick deposited the sleeping teenager into the arms of Liza who scolded him for getting Morty drunk before disappearing up the stairs to put him to bed.  

As Rick returned to the parlor, he was greeted by the sight of his boss holding a now-empty bottle of rum.

“Delicioso…” 

Rick clenched his teeth but forced a smile as he approached, bent at the waist, and respectfully kissed Don Ricardo’s hand. “Buenas noches…to what do I owe the honor of a visit…?”

“Oh, just passing through, querido…” Don Ricardo pulled his fingers through his long hair, “Y-you’ve been doing good work for me lately, La Savera…heard you got yourself a Morty as well.”

Rick bristled, “Yes I did.”

“Well,” Don Ricardo raised a perfectly arched eyebrow over at Rick, “Don’t get too attached now.”

Chuckling, Rick threw himself into the couch and crossed his legs, “That sounds like a warning, jefe…”

Don Ricardo shrugged, “Oh just some advice for my favorite enforcer.”

Rick looked at the Don carefully before responding, “I have a recommendation for you as well…” Standing, Rick crossed the room and stopped only when he was almost nose to nose with Don Ricardo, “Don’t fuck with me.”

A slow smile wound itself across Don Ricardo’s face and he grabbed Rick’s shoulders in his hands, squeezing affectionately, “So testy—” he leaned in and kissed Rick on each cheek, “It’s a shame I don’t have enough time right now to kick your ass appropriately for taking such a nasty tone with me.” releasing Rick’s shoulders, Don Ricardo pulled his portal gun out of his jacket and grinned, “Nos vemos…”

After watching Don Ricardo disappear through a green portal, Rick let his tense shoulders droop, and he walked to the cabinet for another bottle of liquor. Grabbing the fullest bottle of rum he could find, he climbed the stairs, strolled into Morty’s room and sat in a chair across from the bed. Liza had changed Morty into a blue nightshirt, and undoubtedly tucked him in, but his drunken tossing and turning had left him only half covered by blankets. 

Rick stared at the peacefully sleeping teenager, his breathy sighs interrupted by the occasional snore. Opening the bottle, Rick tipped it back and sipped.


	3. Where There's Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty witnesses the beginnings of Rick's full violence, survives an explosion and saves an important Citadel Family head. Rick attempts to distance himself from Morty.

Morty glanced over at Rick who was busy tinkering with his blaster in the backseat of the car as D drove them home. It had been a long day and Morty was looking forward to dinner and bedtime, but Rick seemed like his mind was elsewhere.

“H-hey Rick?”

“Mm.”

“Y-y-you seemed uh, d-distracted today. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Rick paused and looked sideways over at Morty. His young ward was endlessly attentive and he was beginning to understand Don Ricardo’s nasty little warning. Morty’s loyalty was the type that would supercede even loyalty to the Don himself. “D-don’t worry about it, Morty.” Putting his gun away, Rick reached over and playfully tapped Morty’s jaw with his fist, “Long day, huh?”

“Sir, it’s not quite over yet—” from the front, D suddenly interrupted and passed backward a small communication device all the Rick’s carried.

Holding it up to his ear, he listened intently, and Morty watched as La Severa abruptly took over and Rick’s eyes grew dark and wild.

“Entiendo. Estaré ahí pronto.” Handing the device back to D, Rick began taking off his jacket, “Turn around, D. Take us to my warehouse on 5th.”

“Yes sir.”

“Rick,” Morty hated being kept in the dark, “What’s going on?”

Shedding his jacket, Rick began quickly untying his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, “I-I gotta go take care of a little rat problem.”

Morty stayed silent at that cryptic declaration, but when the car pulled up to the warehouse and Morty spotted a few mammoth Citadel Family bodyguards standing outside, the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. Whatever was going on was a big deal.

Rick was clothed only in his slacks, a wifebeater and suspenders as he climbed out and was followed closely by Morty. Inside, Morty was welcomed by the sight of an undoubtedly important Rick. Lounging on a couch with bloody bandages wrapped around his upper arm, a Rick with long dark hair that tumbled across his shoulders and forehead glanced up with a bemused expression. “Ah, Severa…”

Rick dropped to one knee and kissed the hand that was offered, and the puzzle pieces slammed together in Morty’s head. This had to be Don Ricardo. Sure enough, the second he figured it out, Rick gestured him forward, and matching Rick’s stance, Morty knelt on one knee beside him.

“Don, m-may I introduce my assistant Mortimer Smith.”

“Ah, a pleasure,” Don Ricardo pushed a heavily-jeweled hand toward Morty, and tentatively, Morty took the hand in both of his and pressed his lips gently against the cold metal rings.

“A-at your service, sir.”

“Hmm.”

When Morty looked up he was felt a wave of anxiety hit him as Don Ricardo’s black eyes stared through him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away until Rick stood up beside him and grunted,

“What happened?”

Turning his attention to Rick, Don Ricardo touched the wound on his arm, “Ambush at the North End safe house. FBI stooges had a couple of Xaxar thugs with them too.”

“Are the tunnels in danger?”

“No, my crew eliminated the threat,” Don Ricardo’s voice took a hard edge, “but not before losing a couple of our own. We figured out the stoolie and he’s in the other room.”

Rick took Morty by the elbow and stood him up next to him. “I’ll finish up. A-are you going to a hospital?”

“And miss the chance to see my favorite enforcer at work?” Don Ricardo’s eyes sparkled, “I plan on watching.”

Rick replied with a curt nod, and tugging Morty along after him, he headed toward the back of the warehouse.

“Rick, what’s-what’s happening,” The feeling of dread that had begun when Morty stepped foot in the building hadn’t subsided, and although he didn’t understand the full context of the conversation it was pretty clear that there had been a nearly-successful hit on a major figure in the Family. But Rick was in full La Severa mode and not in the mood for chitchat, so Morty allowed himself to be dragged to the backroom where dozens of Family men and women were standing on the sides of the wall. In the center of the room a thick, muscular four armed alien was kneeling, his limbs bound behind him with wire cables.

The pit of Morty’s stomach dropped out as Rick released his shoulder and walked alone out into the middle of the room. He was about to witness an execution.

It wouldn’t be the first time of course…but there was a big difference between low-level rival thugs being taken out with a single gunshot to the head, and an actual betrayal from within the Family. Morty recognized the alien species as Xaxarian, huge hulking aliens that often worked with the family as muscle. It was no coincidence that there were many of them present to watch one of their own be killed.

“Want a toy?” Donald held up a crowbar and a baseball bat to La Severa, but he shook his head and stretched his shoulders.

“Th-they got close enough to injure our Don…I just need my fists for this traitorous sack of shit.”

Stalking over, Rick removed the bonds, and stepped back slightly as the alien burst out of them, all four arms swinging. He was at least two feet taller than Rick, but as Morty watched Rick clench his hands, he suddenly felt more afraid for the alien than for Rick.

“Shouldaaa taken aaa weaapon, fuck’aa..” The alien slurred as it advanced on Rick, “Wass-so scarry about Saaveraaa, hah? Shitty human w—”

Rick’s iron fist collided with the big orange head, cutting off his rambling, and Morty felt his stomach lurch at the unmistakable sound of crunching bones. La Severa proceeded to thrash the alien in silence, the only sounds in the room were agonized grunts and snarls of pain, the sickening thud of steely knuckles slamming into flesh, and the frenzied, excited breathing of a man who thoroughly enjoyed his work.

As Rick bent back one of the alien’s arms until it snapped loudly, Morty twisted his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut as shards of bone punctured through the tough orange skin and the alien wailed in pain.

“HEY!”

Morty’s eye snapped open at Rick’s first exclamation since he started, but he kept his face turned to the side.

“Make sure he’s watching!”

Suddenly, Don Ricardo was beside Morty, and the teenager felt a rough hand snatch a fistful of his hair and force his head forward. La Savera was covered in splatters, his hands and forearms almost completely dripping with dark green blood. He glared at Morty and pointed a bloody finger at him, “You fucking watch this, do you hear me?”

Don Ricardo’s hand tangled up in Morty’s hair roughly jerked back and forth, forcing Morty to nod, and satisfied, Rick returned to his work, grabbing the broken shard of a bone pushing through flesh and pulling back.

Morty dry heaved in his mouth, but behind him, Don Ricardo held the teenager firmly as Rick systematically tortured and beat to death the unfortunate double-crosser.

Pausing to catch his breath and run a bloody hand through his hair, La Severa glared around at those watching, “Nothing will keep you safe from me if-if you betray the Citadel.”

On the floor, the alien was half sobbing half groaning in pain from broken bones and dislocated limbs. His face was completely smashed in, and loose teeth punched out of his mouth littered the floor.

Leaning down, Rick grabbed the alien by his throat, and with impressive strength, held the limp body aloft as he slammed his fist into what remained of the alien’s face, over and over until his fist actually punched _through_ , and dropping the now-dead body in disgust, Rick wiped brains off his hand and smirked at Don Ricardo,

“Thanks for the opportunity to avenge you, boss.”

Don Ricardo finally released Morty’s hair, and chuckled as Rick reached forward and patted Morty’s cheek with a bloody hand before sauntering past him. To his credit, Morty bravely didn’t flinch at the disgusting touch and instead looked up at Don Ricardo and politely nodded,

“I-it was nice meeting you sir.” Before scampering off after Rick.

A thoughtful nod was Don Ricardo’s only response as he watched Rick and Morty leave. Leaning over to his right hand man, he dropped his voice, “Clear my schedule tomorrow, James. I have some research I need to do…”

Back in the car, Rick had taken his wife beater off and was sitting naked to the waist against the expensive leather seat, wiping blood off his arms and hands.

Beside him, Morty watched in silence. Glancing at his young partner, Rick snickered and raised his eyebrow at Morty.

“See something you like, Morty?”

Morty lowered his eyes and shook his head. The bloody handprint from where Rick had patted his cheek was still smeared across his face. It pained Rick to subject Morty to such a horrible display, but better that the kid start hating him at least a little before Don Ricardo started picking up on what Rick was already noticing.

“Y-you scared of me now, huh Morty?”

“No.”

The easy, confident answer caught Rick’s attention and his eyes snapped to Morty’s which were looking back up into his face, open and trusting.

“I’m…scared of what you’re capable of, Rick, but I’m n-not s-scared of you.”

Rick sat back and shrugged, as he asked their driver, “Are you scared of me, D?”

“Yes sir.”

“Smart man.” Rick folded his arms, “Home.”

“Actually sir,” D’s voice was apologetic, “Don Suave asked me to bring you over to Badtown Harbor. He wants you to check the potency of something, he didn’t elaborate. I’m very sorry sir—would you like me to call him and deliver your denial—”

“No, just go,” Rick grunted and felt beneath the seat for his flask, as his stomach loudly growled, “W-we already missed dinner, m-might as well finish the night.”

Morty held back a sigh; he was mentally and physically exhausted at this point and just as hungry as Rick. His head was swimming and his emotions were weird and strong, curling up inside his chest, forcing him to question his assessment of Rick.  Every time he closed his eyes a vision of La Severa gleefully ripping bones out of flesh flashed across his mind, and it made him sick to his stomach.

So lost in his own thoughts, Morty didn’t realize they had reached the harbor until Rick jostled him with his hand, “C’mon, kid. L-last stop of the night, okay?”

Numb, Morty nodded and followed a shirtless, still-filthy Rick out of the car and into the cold night air. Don Suave was waiting for them on one of the docks with a pallet of white boxes beside him.

“Evening, Severa.”

“Yeah.” Rick eyed the boxes, “Is that it?”

“Yes, but I had a meal arranged for you, so you can eat first…I didn’t know you’d have your Morty with you however—”

“I’m not hungry. Morty,” Rick pushed the teenager toward the office building behind Don Suave, “Go inside and eat while I finish up out here.”

“B-but—”

Rick ruffled his hair and shoved him, “Shut up and go eat.”

Morty headed off for the building alone, glancing behind at Rick who was already kneeling by the first box, shirtless, dirty, clearly exhausted and slightly drunk. The fact that his first thought was that Morty should eat cleared up some of Morty’s warring emotions.

Hearing a car door slam, Morty turned around again to watch D get out of the driver’s seat, with a cigarette in his hand, and walk off toward the docks to smoke, leaving the car behind him running so he wouldn’t have to crank it again.

“Hey, you comin’ in?”

Morty saw another version of himself holding the door open, and he nodded quietly, walking inside, welcomed by a fragrant meal laid out on a table by the window. From his seat, Morty had the perfect vantage point to look out onto the docks where Rick and Don Suave talked beneath the starlight.

As his bored gaze wandered across the docks, Morty suddenly started as he saw a thin plume of smoke rise up out of the back seat of Rick’s car. Morty’s sleepy brain jolted awake as he recognized the type of smoke from the one other time he had seen it previously…car bomb.

“Oh no…” Without bothering to offer an explanation, Morty bolted from the table, out the door and back into the cold night air. The car was parked just a few feet from Rick and Don Suave, not to mention the handful or so of other random dock workers that wandered back and forth on the boardwalk.

“Morty–?”

But Morty had no time to stop and offer explanation to a surprised Rick as he breezed past them and ripping open the driver’s side door, dove inside. Morty silently thanked God that D had been giving him driving lessons lately, and yanking on the clutch, floored the gas pedal, lurching the car forward as he steered toward the water at the end of the dock. He could hear panicked screams behind him, and glancing in the rearview mirror, Morty felt his heart race at the amount of smoke that was now pouring out of the backseat. Hoping that the car had enough forward momentum to carry it off the end of the dock, Morty wrenched open the door, and after hesitating twice, jumped from the moving car onto the hard wood of the dock.

Scrambling to his feet and ignoring the pain from his hard landing, Morty tripped, stumbled and sprinted back down the dock toward the boardwalk, screaming at Rick and the others as he ran, “MOVE!”

There was a splash behind him as the car hit the water, and a second later, a massive explosion rocked the dock beneath him, throwing Morty onto his chest and sending water, splinters of wood, and shards of metal into the air.

As Morty struggled to stand he held his hands to his ears in pain. He could hear nothing but a hi-pitched ringing as smoke, falling debris and fire surrounded him. He felt a pair of strong hands help him up and guide him as his hearing came back with a roar.

“—you inside, okay?”

Morty looked up at Rick who was half-dragging him back toward the office building. Morty opened his mouth to reply but the corners of his vision grew dim, and with a heavy, sudden sigh, he lost consciousness.

* * *

“Fuck.” Rick swept Morty up into his arms and jogged away from the dock. Don Suave and his men were busy taking the Crystal away and clearing out. D was lamenting the exploded car and angrily demanding a new one to use to bring Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Smith home.

As Rick stood on the sidewalk, carefully cradling a fainted Morty, Don Suave approached with a low, impressed whistle.

“Y-you have that Morty trained pretty well, Severa.”

Turning to look at Don Suave, Rick frowned, “He saw an opportunity t-to serve the Family and took it, th-that’s it, Don. You don’t-don’t need to spread this around…”

Don Suave shrugged, “You don’t want anyone to know what a great Morty you have?”

“Absolutely not.”

Don Suave chuckled, but sauntered off with a slow wave, “No promises, Severa. Take care of yourself tonight…”

A car finally pulled up in front of the sidewalk, and a harried, stressed, and very frazzled D opened the door for Rick and helped him gently slide Morty inside. Rick took one last look at the fractured, burnt end of the dock and grimaced before getting into the car.

If it hadn’t been for Morty’s wool jacket his back would’ve been singed. As it was, the back of his clothes were almost completely burnt off and the skin beneath was red. Liza nearly burst into tears as she bundled up Morty in her arms and ran off into the house with him.

Rick on the other hand, walked straight to the kitchen, picked up a plate of cold prepared food and scarfed it down as he walked upstairs to shower the gunk off his skin. When he emerged, soaking, steaming, and finally clean, he could dimly hear Morty’s chipper voice talking to Liza in Morty’s bedroom. Toweling off and pulling on pajama pants, Rick stomped across the hall and into the bedroom upon which Liza squeaked and stood at attention as soon as he entered.

“Thank you, that will be all, Liza.”

She nodded quickly, “Y-yes sir, Mr. Sanchez!” and bolted from the room. At this point in her career under Rick Sanchez, Liza could spot a nasty mood a mile away and was all too eager to make herself scarce.

Morty was not so observant. “Rick!” He rose from the chair beside and flew forward with his arms open, only to be stopped by a firm hand against his chest.

With wet hair flopping in front of his face and his eyebrow low over his eyes, Rick ground out, “Care t-to tell me what the hell that stunt was back there?”

Morty was stunned, “What?”

“Are you serious?” Rick’s hand against Morty’s chest formed a fist and gripped the front of his shirt, “The fucking car bomb!” Rick released him, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides, “You could’ve _died_ , Morty did y-y-you ever stop to consider that!?”

Morty’s face flushed red, but this time, in anger. With both hands he shoved Rick backward, and caught off guard by the action, Rick tumbled back, sitting heavily on Morty’s bed.

“The phrase you are looking for is "thank you.”” Morty clenched his teeth as he glared at Rick, leaning over him, staring him down, “Y-y-you’re training me right? Did it occur to you that you’re a good teacher, huh? I took a calculated risk, and saved you _and_ Don Suave.”

“You can’t risk your life—”

“Yes I can!”

Morty suddenly paused as he realized that he was literally yelling at a man who earlier in the night beat someone to death, but, whatever, he still had adrenaline coursing through his veins, if Rick wanted to fist fight he’d be able to at least—

“Thank you.”

Morty could barely believe his ears. Staring down at Rick’s serious and gently amused face, he could barely sputter, “W-w-what?”

Rick sighed and massaged his temples, “Thank you, Morty.”

“Y-you’re welcome.” Morty felt his racing pulse slow, “Rick—” He knelt before Rick and placed his hands on the bony knees, “I-I know y-you can’t trust a lot of people, but you can trust me. N-no matter what you do…I’m…I want to be your shield, Rick. Stop telling me I can’t, I—this is what I want, okay?“

Rick’s hard features relaxed ever so slightly, "I can see y-you’re learning obstinance from me too, huh, doll?” he reached forward, hooking his hands beneath Morty’s armpits and falling backward onto the bed, dragging the teen to lie on his chest. He wrapped his arms around Morty’s small frame, clicking his tongue as the teenager hissed in pain at any contact with his burnt back.

He held him tightly, relishing the warm body on top of his, wondering when the last time was that he cared if someone lived or died. Seeing Morty fly forward from the force of the explosion had stopped his heart, and the confirmation from the boy himself that he was willing to surrender his life for Rick was both terrifying and incredibly satisfying.

A sleepy yawn beside his ear reminded him that they had been awake for over 20 hours at this point.

“Time for bed Morty—”

“You,” Morty pushed up from Rick’s chest, his inquisitive brown eyes met by a steady blue gaze, “W-will you stay here until I fall asleep, please?”

Rick reached up and cupped the back of Morty’s head, bringing him back down to touch their foreheads together affectionately.

“Yes, I’ll stay.” Rick winked at Morty, their faces just a breath apart, “I’ll watch you, d-don’t worry kid.”

“Yeah—” but Morty was only half listening because he was struck with a sudden, unexplainable urge close the one-inch distance between their mouths. He might’ve acted on the impulse if a wave of exhaustion unlike anything he’d ever felt before washed over him. As limp as a rag, he allowed Rick to move him over onto the pillows and wrap blankets around him. Feeling the bed dip, he turned his head to the side to see Rick stretched out beside him in bed on top of the covers.

With a stern look Rick raised his eyebrow at Morty, “Stop staring at me and close your eyes, Morty.”

A final sleepy giggle whispered past his lips as Morty turned his face into the pillow. “Good night, Rick.”

Rolling onto his back and getting comfortable himself, Rick folded his arms behind his head. “Good night, Morty.”

As Rick listened to Morty’s breaths grow deeper and softer, he closed his own eyes and felt sleep creep up on him. His last coherent thought was an angry internal question of who could have possibly planted that bomb, and _when_?

Downstairs, Liza was busy wondering where the package of that flashy new brand of “Need’s Cigarettes” had come from, and why the package was opened, but still completely full.


	4. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick is brutal, Morty is tender, and they are both astonished as the mystery deepens.

“Stop yawning kid, you’re gonna make the rest of us tired.”

Morty shrugged at Donald and yawned again. He’d been up since 5 am to help Rick pick up a shipment of Tennessee Moonshine and bring it back to the _Meeseek Speakeasy_. Then he’d followed Rick back and forth on the docks for hours as Rick investigated their exploded car from a few weeks ago. At least that had been interesting…but they hadn’t found anything useful. After failed clue hunt Morty had assisted Rick as he went back and forth through the city completing errand after errand, stopping only for a quick lunch before they headed to the boxing gym, where Rick had taken Morty through a long training session, before they suited back up and ran more errands.

It was now seven o’clock at night and Morty was about to fall asleep on his feet.

They were in the basement of Rick’s house, and besides Donald, about half a dozen of Severa’s best were present, smoking and lounging, waiting for the boss to get back.

Beneath Rick’s house, a labyrinth of tunnels that connected to speakeasies all over the city had been dug into the earth. Rumors of a police raid at the _Rose Red Bar_ prompted Rick to plan a rather ambitious line of defense.

“Look alive, ladies and gentlemen.” Rick appeared from behind the tunnel door and spat out the finished butt of a cigar onto the ground, “We’re gonna visit the armory beneath the center of town to pick up goodies before heading to _Rose Red_.”

“Is the bar empty tonight?”

“No,” Rick beckoned the group to follow him, “I-I don’t want the coppers catching on to the fact that we know. We’ll pose as guests; just don’t drink, and be ready for the raid.”

Morty piped up, using formalities as they were in a mixed group, “Uhh, Mr. Sanchez, what about c-civilians?”

“Don’t worry about that, Morty. Now—”

“B-but, I’m sorry, but what if th-they get hurt?”

Rick rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers irritably, “Morty, don’t think about that.”

Morty shook his head, slipping back into his usual mode of speaking without realizing it, “I really don’t think th-this is a good idea, _Rick_. The bar should be empty.”

The silence in the room was deafening, and the second the sentence left his lips, Morty felt his stomach clench in regret. He’d questioned Rick in front of the gang, and he’d used his first name as well.

Rick whirled on Morty, and as the teenager looked up into his mentor’s face, he instantly recognized La Severa’s stern glare, and steeled himself. Rick’s voice was a low, throaty growl,

“Is that so?”

It’s very hard to prepare for a hit. No matter how many times you’ve been punched it’s still a shock to the body. Rick openly telegraphed his punch, and Morty wondered for a moment if Rick expected him to dodge. Instead, Morty remained still and leaned forward slightly, letting Rick’s rock hard fist slam into his jaw. 

He tasted blood almost immediately. His ear was ringing, the side of his face was screaming in agony, and the blow was strong enough that he was almost knocked to the ground, but he managed to only stumble a bit before standing back up straight. Aware of the multiple sets of eyes on him from the other mob hands, Morty sadly realized that Rick was about to kick his ass to establish dominance and punish him for questioning his judgment in front of other people.

“--piece of shit.” 

This time Rick’s punch landed in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and Morty doubled over, clutching his middle with a groan, but before he could suck air back in, he felt a hand grasp his hair, and pull his head back up. First punch and Morty could feel his eye throbbing. Second punch landed off-center, his cheekbone took most of the brunt force. Third punch, blood gushed from his nose.

Rick’s hand released his hair, and Morty fell to one knee. 

“Stand up.”

Morty staggered to his feet, his brain barely registering anything beyond the haze of pain. His own blood filled his mouth and  nose, dripped down his chin, tickled his neck…he could feel it soaking into his collar as La Severa grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close. 

“Boss—”

Rick paused to glance behind him at one of his men who was tapping his pocket watch.

“Boss, we got about four minutes until the car arrives. And—” The man faltered, he didn’t want to incur La Severa’s wrath, but the teenager’s face was already a swollen mess, “I dunno if the kid can take much more.”

Rick laughed hard at that, and shook Morty roughly, “They think you’re a bitch, Morty. You a bitch?”

Through his good eye, Morty looked up and tried to smile weakly, “N-no sir, boss.”

The back of Rick’s hand collided with Morty’s head and sent him stumbling to the floor once more. Rick flipped him over onto his back with his foot and pressed his shoe down onto Morty’s chest, “W-what do you think, Morty?” He ground his heel into the boy, “Am I being too tough on you, piss-ant?”

“Aghh—N-n-nn” Morty struggled to breathe as he stared up at La Severa towering over him, filling his limited vision, grinding his dirty shoe into his chest, “No—ggnn-ahh— no, sir.”

Rick lifted his foot, whereupon Morty immediately curled into fetal position on the floor. Wiping Morty’s blood off his hands with a handkerchief, he tossed it onto the teenager’s groaning form on the floor and sneered, “I e-expect you to be cleaned up and back on your feet when I return, comprende?”

Morty’s weak, wavering voice gurgled with saliva and blood as he responded, “Y-yes sirrr…”

Morty didn’t move again until he heard the door slam as Rick and everyone else left. And even then, he only curled into a tighter ball and brought a shaking hand to his face to tweak his nose. Good, not broken. A beating from Rick was fast, ferocious and excruciating. It took Morty several minutes to roll onto his stomach before slowly getting up on his hands and knees. After another painful few minutes of struggling to stand, he finally was mobile enough to climb the stairs and reenter the house, carefully making his way to the bathroom.

His eye was a mess, and it was probably the worst part of his face. His jaw was a little on the swollen side, and his nose would be hurting for a while, but Morty knew from experience he wouldn’t be seeing anything out of his eye for at least a few days.

“Jeez…” Looking at himself in the mirror, Morty sighed as he spoke to himself, “Y-you’re sick, Morty…y-y-you just—you just got beat up bad and you-you’re not even mad at him.”

Which was true; really, Morty was trying to figure out how he got off so lightly. Rick’s entire life was dedicated to beating people to smithereens. If La Severa punched you in the face, he broke your bones, so Morty knew immediately that Rick had held back for his sake.

He spat blood into the sink, then spat again before starting to clean himself up. When he finally managed to make himself look presentable, he went back upstairs, changed his dirty, bloody clothes, before tromping back downstairs to pace back and forth. The only person he was angry at right now was himself. He wanted to be there to protect Rick, but instead his smartass mouth had kept him home, away from the action. Sitting heavily in the chair by the door, Morty absentmindedly scratched a tickle on his forearm and then looked down in surprise at what was causing the sensation. Two strands of red hair were stuck to the arm of the chair. Kneeling, Morty looked at the rest of the chair carefully, tucking the strands into his pocket. 

* * *

Rick wasn’t a very honest person, but he was honest with himself, and honestly? As he rode in the car beside his men, (whom he’d affectionately refer to as his “Ricking Crew”) he couldn’t help but be worried that he’d been too hard on Morty. It wasn’t exactly like he had a choice. Had they been by themselves, that little comment from Morty might have earned him a sharp smack and a warning, but in front of his men, Rick had to make an immediate and memorable example of what happens when La Severa’s decisions are questioned. 

As he sat in the car and mulled over his actions he decided Morty probably wouldn’t even be waiting for him at home; if he had half a brain, he would’ve packed a bag and left. Rick frowned deeper. This was for the best anyway, Morty’s devotion was too obvious and he was becoming overly fond of the boy as well. Rick ground his teeth, maybe more than fond…he was catching himself thinking about Morty more and more frequently these days. If a few beatings made the boy hate him, perfect; it was high time he nipped that crush in the bud.

Shaking his head to dislodge the intrusive thoughts of a bubbly, brown-haired teenager, Rick forced himself to think about the fight ahead of them.

After loading up at the armory, it was a mostly silent ride to _Rose Red_ , and as Rick and his men filed into the bar through the backdoor, most of the patrons inside instantly recognized him and moved their drinking and partying toward the back of the bar, already sensing that the bar was going to be hopping tonight, and not in a positive way.

Rick took a seat near the front, keeping his blaster tightly holstered to his thigh, moodily drinking plain seltzer water as his sharp ears listened to the sounds of the city outside.

“Boss—”

Rick glanced up. Gromflomites were conspicuously gathering across the street, not bothering to shield the fact that they were carrying weapons. Rick narrowed his eyes…The Galactic Federation was working with the FBI? No time to wonder about it now.

“Hey,” Rick looked up at his lackey, “This changes things, G-gromflomites will shoot at civilians, they won’t hold back like cops. Move people behind the bars and…we’re about to get lit up.”

“You got it boss.”

Rick made a mental note to warn Don Ricardo about a possible infiltration by the Galactic Federation before pulling out his blaster and cracking his neck.

“Wh-whoever kills the most of these assholes gets a bonus check.”

That proved to be the rallying cry, as seconds later the mosquito-like aliens burst through the front door, already firing indiscriminately into the crowd of people. Rick took out four with clean headshots before needing to duck behind the counter as a barrage of fire slammed into his location. 

Shattered glass and warm whiskey splashed down on top of him, and he groaned as he realized his favorite hat was probably ruined. When the shooting stopped he peeked his head and weapon over top of the counter and filled the nearest Gromflomite goon with bullet holes. Dark blood stained the expensive carpets, but as far as Rick could see only one civilian and one of his men had been shot, and judging by the screams of pain they were both still living.

As Rick got to his feet, Donald finished killing the last Gromflomite. “Nice work. Get these shitty c-cockroaches out of here, they’re gonna smell in an hour.” Turning to the now-silent revelers, Rick tipped his hat and shouldered his gun, “N-not to worry ladies and gentlemen, please return to your drinks, we’ll be out of here in a moment.”

Although visibly shaken, half the crowd was still drunk, and after nervous laughter and music resumed, it was almost as if a violent extra-terrestrial firefight didn’t even occur. Rick left the cleaning to his men and disappeared back through the exit toward the tunnel. Waving off the driver and telling him to wait and drive the others, Rick lit a cigar and moodily started the two mile walk back home through dark subterranean tunnels—he needed silence to think.

It was no coincidence that there were two attempted hits on the Citadel Family in one month, and the refusal of any of the usual gangs to claim the attacks meant there was a powerful new player making moves in the city. The emergence of the Galactic Federation was also an added complication; how did the FBI get in touch with interplanetary law enforcement, and how did they not hear about it until it was right beneath their noses?

When he finally returned home, it was well past midnight and the house was silent. Emerging from the basement into the foyer he almost jumped in surprise when he noticed Morty patiently standing by the door.

“Welcome home, Rick.”

Morty was still here. Rick felt nauseas looking at Morty’s face. He’d tried to not hit him too hard, but the boy’s face was nearly unrecognizable beneath the swelling and bruising. Approaching him, Rick reached forward and was impressed that even after enduring a savage thrashing at his hands, Morty didn’t flinch when he reached toward him. Taking his chin in his hands, Rick turned Morty’s face left and right, looking at the damage.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes sir.”

Rick pursed his lips, “Y-you understand why I had to do that?”

Morty nodded hard, “Yes I do.”

“Are-are you angry at me?”

“No, sir.” 

Rick stared down at him. He was feeling a mix of relief that Morty hadn’t left and aggravation that seemingly no matter what he did nothing would drive this tenacious teenager away.

“Morty,” Rick sighed, “Morty, I’m-I’m—”

Holding up a hand, Morty shook his head, “Rick, p-please don’t apologize, it-it doesn’t suit you.”

Rick chuckled, “Y-you’re made of stronger stuff th-than the majority of the Family, Morty…” 

Morty beamed at the praise, but then narrowed his good eye as he looked at Rick covered in blue blood, booze and glass. “H-how’d it go tonight…uh, were aliens there?” 

Rick shrugged, “W-we’ll talk about it later…” Taking off his hat and jacket, Rick tossed them onto the banister and pointed up the stairs, “Come up to my room, doll.”

Morty followed him up the stairs and then into his bedroom, where Rick lead them to a low couch at the foot of the bed.

Sitting beside him, Rick’s hands—the same ones that had beaten him so severely only hours before, smoothed hair back from his forehead, and gently touched the bruises on Morty’s face. Morty tried to discern the emotion etched into the hard, chiseled face. Was it regret? No—more subtle—uncertainty?

“Morty.”

The teenager felt his toes curl inside his shoes at the sound of his name on Rick’s lips. 

“Morty, I—” Rick smiled but it was a twisted, grief-stricken expression, “I wrecked you.”

“No!” Morty shook his head hard, “I-I used to be alone, Rick; y-you _saved_ me!” Grabbing Rick’s wrists in his hands, Morty brought them to his mouth and reverently kissed Rick’s knuckles. The action was impulsive, reckless, and instant. Beneath his lips, the bones of Rick’s hands felt like warm iron; solid and unrelenting. When Rick didn’t move his hands away, Morty flipped them over and kissed his palms next, bending his head low, so his forehead touched the inside of Rick’s wrist.

It was a simple and seemingly innocent gesture, but in the silence of his bedroom, and in the context of the previous hours, to Rick, Morty’s actions were at once forgiving and erotic. 

The last shred of decency left in Rick compelled him to gently pull his hands away before he lost control of himself. When Morty looked up with a question in his eyes, Rick patted him on the head, stood up and walked to his cabinet. It took him a few minutes to locate, but he found the patented healing salve within, and returned to Morty on the couch. 

“Close your eyes.”

Morty’s eyes snapped shut. For the life of him, Rick couldn’t understand why this boy trusted him so readily. Opening the jar, and as gently as he could, Rick smoothed the clear ointment against Morty’s skin. As he approached the swollen, blueish eye, Morty whimpered in pain and before he realized what he was doing, Rick paused and leaned forward, pressing a quick, warm kiss to his forehead before leaning back and continuing with a firm direction, “Stay still for me, Morty.”

The ointment worked as Rick rubbed it in, the bruises softened, the swelling shrank, and the miniature cuts and scrapes disappeared as the skin healed itself. After a few minutes of careful massage, Morty’s face was almost entirely back to normal, with only a very minor bruise beneath his eye as evidence that he’d been hurt at all.

Opening his eyes, Morty touched his face in surprise, “Wow…did you invent that?”

“Nah, another Rick…” Closing the jar and putting it down on the floor beside his foot, Rick reached over and ruffled Morty’s hair before letting his palm slide down to cup the teenager’s cheek. Before he could stop himself, his thumb gently rubbed over Morty’s bottom lip with a feather light touch. 

“Riiick…”

Morty’s eyes were shining with adoration, and realizing what he was doing, Rick yanked his hand away.

“M-morty, listen—”

But Morty had launched himself into Rick’s lap, pressing his young chest up against Rick’s sturdy frame, curling his arms around his neck. His warm mouth brushed against Rick’s still-speaking lips in chaste kiss—and then another—Morty’s mouth effortlessly coaxing a kiss in return from Rick, and after denying himself so long, Rick’s self-control broke. His arms wrapped around Morty’s middle in a crushing embrace, and he kissed back, their mouths opening to welcome each other with such instant familiarity it seemed like they’d been like this their whole lives.

“No—” Rick pulled back, Morty pulled him in again and kissed him harder. “No—Morty, stop—” Morty didn’t stop. His wiry arms, laced with teenage muscle held firm, his clumsy fingers wrapped themselves in his hair, he pulled Rick’s face toward him again with a smile and kissed him _again_.

“Morty!” Rick forced him back, his chest aching as he distanced himself, “I can’t—”

Morty’s cheeks were flushed pink as he breathlessly inquired, “Can’t what?”

“I can’t,” Rick tried to find La Severa in him, but he couldn’t, all he could focus on was lips and cheeks and pretty brown eyes, “I—”

“You want me…” 

The self-assured tone of the statement caught him by surprise, and instead of answering ‘no I don’t,’ like he knew he should, “Yes I do—” came spilling out of Rick’s mouth before he could stop it. 

“Then take me—”

“I’ve already,” Rick felt Morty pressing forward and he pushed his hands against the young chest harder, “I’ve already taken-taken too much from you Morty,”

“Take everything!” Morty fought his way back into Rick’s lap and wrapped his arms around his neck again, pressing himself to Rick, rubbing his body against the warm, strong, solid man, “My skills, my hands, my body, ask me—ask me for my life Rick it’s yours—”

“You _idiot_.” But Rick was already gone, already felt his hands smoothing over Morty’s back, already felt his groin ache for release, already felt his chest constrict painfully as a typically-unused organ beat resolutely within. “Don’t say that, _by gods_! I’m not a good person, y-you should know that _Morty_ , I could take advantage of you—”

“I know,” Morty’s mouth found his neck and his inexperienced lips pressed timid kisses against his jugular, “I don’t care.”

“You-you can’t tell me to just use you Morty, because I _will_.” Rick tossed Morty off him onto the end of the couch, lunging forward after him, crawling over, pinning him to the sofa, looming and dangerous. He planted his fists on either side of Morty’s face, “I will use you up until there’s _nothing_ _left_ and then I will want more. I’m-I’m never satisfied, Morty. If you give yourself to me I will never let you go.”

Morty gazed up at him silently for a moment, “N-no one was kind to me, Rick.” Morty’s hands slid up Rick’s arms slowly, his fingers squeezing the muscles beneath the sleeves, “I barely remember my parents and my—” Morty faltered, “Well, the first real memory of someone being nice to me was the first time you bought a paper from me years ago…s-so,” Morty’s hands arrived at Rick’s face, and he tenderly pressed his palms against the hard cheekbones, his fingertips buried in the blue hairline, “Y-you have it reversed, Rick. It’s not you who won’t let go of me,” With sudden, inexplicable strength, Morty’s hands suddenly grabbed Rick by the sides of his head and forcibly pulled him down, “ _I_ won’t l-let go of _you_.”

Morty’s mouth was scorching, volcanic intensity. He kissed Rick edaciously, thoroughly, driving every other thought from the enforcer’s head until even his heartbeat seemed to drum Mor-ty, Mor-ty, Mor-ty inside his chest.

Rick fell against him, ripping his mouth away to run his tongue across the youthful jaw. He found Morty’s Adam’s apple wiggling with the teenager’s throaty groans of pleasure as Rick’s hands moved down his sides, found his hips, and grasped tightly. 

A heavy, dull thud downstairs shocked them both, and in seconds, Rick and Morty had untangled themselves and were both on their feet with fists clenched. Wordlessly, Rick pointed at the door, and nodding, Morty snatched up his blaster on the bedside table and with catlike silence, edged to the threshold, pushed his door open, and walked out into the dark hallway. 

The familiar thrill of imminent danger flushed through Rick and he couldn’t help the evil grin that spread across his face. Those who dared cross into his home uninvited were in for some special treatment indeed.

In the hallway, Morty was already standing by the stairs, peering around the corner with his weapon raised. Rick deftly touched the side panel in the hallway, pulling two blasters out for himself and tiptoeing against the wall, he stood next to Morty and nudged him with his elbow as the signal to proceed onward.

The stairs were creaky, but they both knew where to step and maneuvered their way downstairs as silently as ghosts.

On the landing of the first floor, Morty flared his nostrils as the sharp scent of strong perfume wafted past his nose. At the other end of the corridor, a light from Rick’s office shone through the open door, and the dull rustle of papers covered the noise of two sets of bare feet carefully sneaking down the hallway. 

Peeking around the corner of the door, Morty’s vantage point allowed him to see their prey: clad completely in black with a cavernous hood mostly covering their head and face, concealing their identiy. Morty glanced back at Rick, and receiving a nod, he sprang forward into the room, aiming and shooting immediately.

The shot grazed the spy’s shoulder, and wailing in pain, they dropped to the floor, throwing their arm over the side of the desk to return fire, forcing Morty to also duck behind a chair. As Rick entered the room and drew the gunfire off of him, Morty circled on his hands and knees to the other side of the desk, and pressed his gun into the defenseless back of the distracted spy.

“Drop your weapon.”

Instead obeying, the spy whipped their head around, Morty suddenly found himself face to face with a woman. Using his shock to her advantage, she elbowed him in his bad eye, shot through the glass behind the desk, and evading Rick’s gunfire, hopped through the window and out into the dark night. Growling, Morty got to his feet and jumped through, shredding his clothes on the broken glass as he landed on his feet outside the window and took off sprinting after the femme fatale.

Months of training with Rick had made Morty a very speedy teenager and he easily caught up with the spy, diving forward and tackling her to the ground. 

She was prepared for his attack. Morty felt a savage kick connect with his hand, and he dropped his gun, but undeterred, he wrestled with the spy on the ground. She was slippery and talented, and Morty found himself on the losing side of the fight as they grappled with each other on the grass. Pinning Morty to the ground, she pressed her knee into his chest, and choked him with one hand as she clumsily felt around in her jacket with her other. When she emerged with a portal gun identical to Rick’s, Morty felt his blood run cold. 

Pointing it down at him, she pressed a button and as the gun beeped, she read the panel facing her and then looked down at Morty in astonishment, “Y-y-you’re a Morty, but…but you’re from _this_ dimension!?”

It was now Morty’s turn to take advantage of her surprise. Hiking up his knees, he somersaulted them both over, escaping from her grasp, and managing to grab hold of her hood as he stood up. But the spy was no longer interested in fighting. Without bothering to engage anymore, she simply unbuttoned her jacket, slid out, and sprinted away, opening a portal as she ran and disappearing through it.

Morty was still holding the empty jacket as he walked back into the house. Rick was cradling an unconscious Liza in his arms by the front door when Morty walked back inside.

“Is she hurt?”

Rick’s face was dark and furious, “Bad smack to the head…but she’ll be okay.” Glancing at Morty’s hands he inquired, “H-how’d it go?”

Morty squeezed the jacket angrily in his hands, “She got away.”

“ _She_?”

“That’s not all—” Morty looked up at Rick, “She-she had a portal gun, Rick. Just like yours.”

Rick swore under his breath before fixing Morty with a steady gaze, “We need to find out what the fuck is going on.”

Suddenly remembering the red hair he found on the chair earlier, Morty flipped open the hood and looked inside. He found what he was looking for—a few lost strands of hair…but they were shorter and brown. A million different theories clamored inside Morty’s head as he nodded at Rick, “First we should figure out why she broke in.”

“Why _they_ broke in…” 

Rick and Morty both turned their attention abruptly to a weak and pitiful Liza who was slowly rising from her unconsciousness. 

“Wh-wh-whoooo…whomever she was…she wasn’t alone. Before I was knocked out, I saw them…there were _two_ people who broke in!”

Rick looked over at Morty who was gazing at him earnestly. Turning his eyes to Liza, he gently asked, “Liza, will you be all right on your own for a few hours?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good.” Softly setting her down in a nearby chair, Rick turned to Morty as he felt La Severa rise up inside his chest, “You ready, Morty?”

“Always, sir.”

“Glad to hear it. We’re going hunting tonight…”


	5. Thicker Than Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick gets his orders, Morty makes a startling discovery, and the final chips begin to fall into place.

Once Liza had been safely deposited back in her room, Rick and Morty swiftly rifled through the house, taking stock of what had been stolen and what remained. Meeting back up in the parlor, they compared notes.

“They took all of the cash in the safe, the other jar of salve I keep in my desk, and blueprints for the tunnel.” Rick’s teeth ground against each other. He wasn’t accustomed to being on the losing end of a conflict. He didn’t enjoy it. “You?”

Morty was red in the face, “They took a few rifles from the hallway closet and—” Morty flushed harder as he looked up at Rick, “Th-they took an old photograph from my knapsack down in the kitchen.”

Rick narrowed his eyes, “A photograph of  _what_?”

“M-my…my family.” Morty hunched his shoulders, “I’m sorry I n-never told you about it or-or showed you. It was just a sad picture of people I don’t remember.”

“Morty,” Rick’s eyes were curious, dangerous, piercing—“Morty, you don’t need to apologize for anything. Y-you can keep your secrets as long as long as they don’t interfere with work. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Morty visibly relaxed, and tried to stifle a yawn, but Rick caught the expression and began pushing Morty up the stairs, “Bed.”

“Rick, no! W-w-we gotta—”

“Don’t ‘we’ me, Morty, you’ve been awake too long.”

“I need to protect you!”

“Yes, and to do that effectively y-you need to sleep.”

Morty fought Rick every step of the way, even wrestling back as Rick forced him down onto the bed. “Rick,  _please_ , I’m fine, hand on heart!”

Rick chuckled and briefly caught Morty’s chin in his hand, pulling him close for a crushing kiss, before shoving the teenager back down onto the bed, “IF you behave and go to bed, Morty…I’ll finish up what I started tomorrow…”

Morty rolled his eyes as he leaned back onto the pillow, “Y-you mean what  _I_  started?”

La Severa growled, “Excuse me?”

Morty pulled the covers over his head and laughed, “Shoot, I’m joshin’, I’m joshin’!”

Standing back up Rick tried and failed to suppress an indulgent smile. Morty was making him soft, goddammit. “Get some sleep, you incorrigible little fucker. T-tomorrow morning we have a lot of shit to do.”

Morty peeked back over the covers and nodded with a serious expression, “I-I know.”

Winking, Rick left the room, flipping off the light as he exited and returning to his own bedroom. His portal gun was waiting for him on his nightstand and snatching it up, he plugged in the coordinates for the Citadel’s main headquarters and breezed through the portal. He stepped out of his portal onto the thick, lush carpeting of Don Ricardo’s sitting room. Silky acoustic guitar floated out from a half-naked blue alien who played the guitar with two hands as her other six alternatively touched herself, danced and snapped in rhythm to the music. Naked male and female blue aliens writhed on the floor, fucking each other, dancing to the music and gasping orgasmically. In the center of the action, Don Ricardo sat in a deep purple armchair. A shirtless Morty wearing nothing but thigh-high fishnets and several-sizes-too small lace panties ground his groin into Don Ricardo’s face. Rick would’ve snorted at the gratuitous display if it wasn’t one that he hadn’t already seen multiple times. The Morty turned and flipped his waist-length curly hair over his shoulder, glaring at him as he danced.

“Daddy, Senor Severa has just arrived…”

Don Ricardo peered around his Morty’s dancing form and smirked at Rick, “Mmm…business or pleasure, Severa?”

“Business.”

“Shame.” Don Ricardo’s hand slid across Morty’s ass as he licked his lips and looked Rick as if he was the most succulent piece of meat he had ever laid eyes on, “I-it’s been long time since we’ve mixed the two…”

“That’s intentional,” Came Rick’s sharp reply. He snapped his fingers at the assembled aliens, “I need the room with the Don.”

His serious tone cleared the room in seconds. The music halted and frightened partiers scurried for the exit. The last to leave was a very peeved Morty who fussed with his long curls as he slowly left, “I’ll wait in the bedroom, daddy…”

“No need, presh.” Don Ricardo’s smirk finally vanished as he sat forward and observed the demeanor of his enforcer, “Just go to your quarters with the other Morties. I don’t have use for you tonight.”

A prissy little huff was his last complaint before whore Morty left them alone. Steepling his fingers, Don Ricardo grew serious, “Severa. Explain.”

Rick kept his explanation brief; “Galactic Federation was at  _Rose Red_  tonight along with the FBI. They had Gromflomite muscle.”

“ _Dios mio.”_

“Not done yet.” Rick counted off on his fingers, “Attempted hit on you  _and_  Suave in-in the same night, not to mention our shipments have been demanding higher prices for our usual supply. Someone is squeezing us out of the market, and,” Rick felt his pulse quicken again in fury, “someone broke into my house tonight. Stole blueprints to our tunnels, and when my Morty subdued one of the attackers, she pulled out a portal gun to escape.”

Don Ricardo was now on his feet, pulling his hair into a low, tight braid and angrily humming deep in his throat, “This is fucking bullshit. No way did Gromflomites get into Citadel territory without us knowing.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Rick flexed his hands, “Orders?”

Don Ricardo paced back and forth, he had ascended to his role as Don through his incredibly clever tactical intelligence, but an unknown threat that needed to be neutralized as quietly as possible that also could be coming from within the Family was a unique problem.

“Tomorrow morning, I want you to personally follow up on our usual delivery to Storehouse Two. Lately…” Don Ricardo grimaced, “Lately they’ve been buying less. I assumed it was because the influx of extra terrestrial contraband was making hooch less attractive, but now…I think you’re onto something. We’re being squeezed out of the market.”

“Understood; anything else?”

“Yes,” Don Ricardo threw a fur coat around his shoulders and reached for his portal gun in his pocket, “Suave and I need to be quiet in our investigations, but I want you to be as messy and noisy as possible,” He snickered, “You have my permission to drown the streets in blood. Put the fear of god into these lowlife bottom feeders trying to muscle in on our city.”

For the first time in hours, Rick flashed a genuine smile, “With pleasure, Don…”

* * *

 

Morty was awake before the sunshine, and he was inside Rick’s room before he had finished fully waking up. He’d been concerned about waking his mentor up, but as he rushed into the room, he was greeted by a half-dressed Rick pounding back the contents of his flask. His knuckles were wrapped, he was armed, and as he glanced up and his eyes met Morty’s face, the teenager saw Severa was present and hesitated before walking further into the room.

“I’m glad y-you’re awake.” La Severa put his flash down on his bureau and returned to buttoning his shirt. “Change. Arm yourself for level three conflict. Meet me in the foyer in-in ten minutes.” He narrowed his eyes, “If you make me late I’m going to warm my fists up on your face, capisce?”

“Yes, sir!” Morty darted from the room and sprinted to his bedroom, stripping naked as he ran, and pulling clothes from his drawers in a fevered rush. La Severa always made him a little more wary around Rick than usual, but the order to prepare for a level three conflict meant that they were definitely going to see action today and the realization set his nerves on fire. Rick’s short hand descriptors were handy and relatively universal across the Family. Level one was human thugs and rival gang men; level two was alien combatants; level three was human and alien combatants, with the possibility of government presence. Level four, god forbid, was a Family-level threat. A gang or government power that was just as if not more powerful than the Family…and a situation Morty prayed he never experienced.

Changing and arming himself in record time, Morty made I downstairs with a minute to spare, and followed Rick wordlessly out to the waiting car. It was still dark outside, but dawn had just begun to break in the far corner of the horizon, stretching baby blue and orchid pink tendrils of light across the clear sky. Clouds of white breath followed them as they hustled into the car and as D revved the engine to life, Morty watched the house disappear in the distance as they drove down the street and was suddenly struck by a horrible sense of forboding.

“Sir,”

Rick glanced over at Morty and nodded, “Mm?”

“What’s our first stop?”

“Storehouse Two.”

Morty’s mind raced, that was the largest buyer of hooch in the entire city. He was smart enough to determine that Rick had probably visited the Don last night while he was sleeping, but if he and Rick were being sent to one of the largest customers the Family had, that meant circumstances were much worse than he originally anticipated.

“Are we supposed to keep quiet?”

Rick shook his head and snickered, “No. In fact, we’re under orders to send a message.”

Damn. Morty felt his stomach churning. Today was going to be bloody. “U-understood.”

As he stared up at Rick, Severa suddenly melted away, and Rick reached forward, gently squeezing Morty’s shoulder in his huge hand. “Morty, I haven’t forgotten my promise to you. I’ll—I’ll make you forget all about this violence tonight, okay?”

Morty nodded, but suddenly afraid that he was going to be more of a distraction to Rick than a help, he slipped out of Rick’s grip and chewing his lip, he forced himself to be professional. He and Rick both needed to be paying attention today. “La Severa—p-please don’t worry about me sir. Let me be your shield.”

Like a jolt of lightning, Rick vanished and Severa returned, his hard eyes boring holes into Morty as the car lurched along the road, “I appreciate the loyalty, Mr. Smith.”

Too soon for comfort, the car arrived and halted in front of the mammoth ballroom that was affectionately nicknamed Storehouse Two. The largest speakeasy in the country attracted everyone from celebrities to politicians and it was the largest customer for women, liquor and drugs.

Stepping out of the car Rick allowed Morty to lead the way toward the front door, and Morty politely opened the door for him, following obediently behind him as the entered the breathtakingly beautiful interior. A cheery bell announced their arrival, and a brief shuffling behind the counter preceded a lovely young woman appearing at the desk. Morty’s heart pounded hard against his chest when he saw her hair: a vibrant orangey-red. His hand itched to grab his pistol but he forced himself to breathe and calm down. Her hair was cut into the popular bob haircut that flappers wore, and the hairs he had found on the chair in the foyer were longer and curly; this wasn’t the same woman. At least…it was unlikely.

“Hello gentlemen! Welcome, how may I be of service to you?”

Rick approached the desk and his voice dropped to the intimidating growl he usually reserved for interrogations. The low voice he used was often enough to make people crack from sheer fright.

“Good morning. I’ve come to confirm the supply you have arriving this afternoon. Payment can be sent directly to Citadel offices on the corner of Main and 1st, but I wanted to pay a cordial visit and inquire if you needed anything beyond what we are delivering today…”

Morty watched as the blood drained from the face of the girl behind the counter. Although her face gave her away, her smooth-as-honey voice was calm and collected and didn’t betray her doubtless terror facing down Severa by herself. “Oh sir, I apologize for the trouble you’ve gone through. Storehouse Two has canceled the order. We will no longer be requiring Citadel services…”

“I see.” Rick stuck his hands in his pockets, and Morty knew he was reaching for the mini blaster hidden in his slacks. “What a monumental disappointment. Y-you’ll forgive me if I attempt to change your mind…?”

As if on cue, a door to the right of the reception area opened and the attention of all three snapped over to see who had interrupted an unbelievably tense “conversation.” The intruder was short, dressed in a excellently tailored suit and carrying a tommy gun. Her mop of mousy brown hair fell in short, fluffy waves around her face, and the familiar aroma of expensive perfume filtered through the room. Morty recognized her first, but Rick’s reaction was faster.

“Rick that’s—”

“Yep—” Rick pulled his gun and fired three times in a smooth, lighting fast movement. The first two shots grazed her arm, but the third hit home, and the side of her head burst into a splatter of blood as she screamed, dropped her gun and clapped a hand to the side of her head.

Morty moved to step forward, but just as fast as Rick had reacted, he suddenly felt the sharp edge of a blade dig into his throat and draw blood. Behind him, the red head was pressed against his back holding a razor against the artery in his throat and forcing him to walk backward. Rick whirled on her with his gun trained on her head, but arranging Morty to shield her, she angled herself away from Rick as she dug in the pockets of her dress and held the razor against Morty’s throat.

“If you do so much as breathe too fast I’ll slice him like a fish, you fucker.” As if to illustrate, she pressed the blade down gentle and Morty gurgled in pain as the hot burn of a cut painted itself across his jugular. He could feel a rush of blood spill down his skin, and as he looked up at Rick, he saw the unhinged fury of Severa contorting the face of the man he knew so well, and felt his blood run cold. Behind him, his captor was still shuffling backward, forcing him to awkwardly follow her movements, lest he be cut deeper.

“Tammy, status!?”

The brunette groaned in pain and panted weakly “G-get me outta heereee Jess—”

So that was her name. Behind him, Morty felt Jess raise her arm, and he watched as her hand appeared in his line of vision, holding the same portal gun he had seen Tammy using the night previously. She shot  portal directly beneath Tammy and as Tammy disappeared through it, Rick took another step forward.

“Stop! I’ll kill him—”

“You won’t.” Severa’s teeth twisted into a fiendish smile, “I’m calling y-your bluff, leggy—”

But just as Rick lunged toward them, Jess opened a portal beneath them, and Morty felt himself fall through the floor, Rick’s face twisted into a mask of terror and fury disappearing in a veil of green.

They crashed onto a wood floor in a heap, and rolling away, Morty got to his feet first but was promptly sent careening to the floor again as the butt of a gun plowed into the back of his head. Moaning in agony, he clutched his skull and rolled over onto his back to see Tammy standing over him, a pistol pointed at his face. Closer now, he could better see her injury. Her ear was blown clean off, and the entire right side of her face was a mangled mess of flesh, hanging scraps of skin and hair. Her eyes were wild as the bloody hand that held the gun shook.

“Myyyy fucking ear you fucking—”

“Tammy, stand down!”

“Fuck you, Jess, you—”

“ _Both_  of you shut up!”

Morty felt his stomach twist sickeningly in his middle as he recognized the voice of D thundering behind him. Tammy instantly lowered her gun and dropped to her knee submissively, “Boss, I’m sorry.”

Morty rolled to his stomach with Tammy momentarily distracted, if D was the boss he could get in at least one good shot before—

“Morty.”

Looking up from his position on his hands and knees, Morty looked up into the face of the _true_  boss. Her long, scarlet curls tumbled down her shoulders, she was dressed in a bright gold evening dress, the tassels of which shook with every small movement she made. Her black coat was bunched around her elbows and her arms were covered in long, sleek gloves. She held a delicate silver pistol in her thin hands. Morty’s heart raced as he gazed at her face. It was like looking in a mirror. His memories of his parents were fuzzy and murky, but few treasured memories he had of his sister were as clear as if they had happened yesterday. The day they had been separated into boys and girls orphanages was burned into his brain like an angry brand, and after reports that the orphanage she had been sent to had burned to the ground with no reported survivors, Morty had written her off as the last member of his family to leave his miserable mortal coil.

“Morty—Morty—”

She said his name like a promise, like a whispered rosary. Dropping to her knees, the pistol clattered dully as it hit the floor. Her gloved hands clasped his face and she stared into Morty’s face, tears rimming her eyes, mascara pooling at the corners of her eyelashes.

“Morty, please—Morty you have to remember me—” She removed her hands from his face and tore her gloves off, revealing mangled, purple, scarred skin, she was missing the first few portions of the pointer and middle finger of her left hand, her skin was taut and smooth and damaged and so beautiful, and as she clasped her burned hands to Morty’s face again, Morty relished the feeling of that scarred skin against his cheeks.

“Morty—Mor—”

“Summer.”

Morty pulled her against his chest, pressed his sister’s body flush against his as he buried his face in her curls and breathed in a decade and a half of forgotten familial affection. She shuddered against him, he felt her hands dig into his back as she clasped him back fiercely. Morty would have wept if he wasn’t keenly aware of the gun still trained on his back from Tammy.

“Summer, how— _how_!?”

Summer leaned back to look at her brother. Her eyes roamed over his face, memorizing him all over again, “Leave me alone.”

D stepped forward, “Miss Smith, I don’t—”

Summer whipped her head around, “Jessica, escort Tammy and D from the room if you please.”

“As you wish, Donna Summer.”

A brief and frustrated scuffle ensued as Jessica hustled an angry D and a bickering Tammy from the room. Attempting to compose herself, Summer struggled to her feet and held her hand out to Morty, “I won’t hurt you Morty. I’m sorry Tammy hit you.”

“Summer,” Morty got to his feet and ran a shaking hand through his hair, “Summer, this is-is-this is unbelievable.”

“Sit,” Summer led the way to a couch in the corner of the room and sat, patting the seat beside her. When Morty obeyed, she took his hands in her own and held them to her heart, “I thought you were dead, Morty—” tears sprang to her eyes again, but now she let them fall silently as she smiled through her grief and relief, “When I escaped the fire, I looked for you, but you had already been moved to a different orphanage, and they had no record of you…I assumed the worst.”

“How did you escape the fire, though!?”

Summer’s eyes lowered, and when she looked up again, Morty recognized a familiar hardness behind her expression. “Rick saved my life.”

“ _Rick_!?”

“Not  _your_  Rick…the Rick from this dimension.”

“But—”

Summer shook her head violently, “La Severa is not native to this dimension, Morty.” Her jaw tightened and her face screwed up into an angry scowl, “He’s a murderer, Morty. He’s just a cruel puppet of the Citadel, murdering for fun and torturing for pleasure.”

“No—”

“He killed our parents for not cooperating with mob business! Morty, your Rick isn’t who you think he is!”

Morty ripped his hands way from Summer, his mind swam with questions but all he could stutter out was “H-h-how d-do you—how could you p-possibly know that!?”

“Dev told me.” At Morty’s confused expression, she hastily explained, “You know him as ‘D.’ Dev Needful has been my servant for some time now.”

Morty backed away, “No. No, no, no—”

“He  _knows_  Morty! Dev is a demon I tricked into being my slave. He can’t lie to me Morty—”

“You’re wrong, and he’s lying t-to you.”

“Morty—”

“No!” Morty moved back further to the other edge of the couch, his hands trembling as he squeezed the side of the couch. He still had his pistol inside his coat. He still had his switchblade inside his sleeve. He could kill her. Kill his sister!? Morty shook his head violently, “Summer, you’ve enraged the Citadel. They’re coming for you. Severa is hunting you down at-at this very  moment.”

“Good, let them come!”

Morty’s head snapped up at her declaration and he was shocked to see her devilish smile, “The Citadel took my family, Morty. I’m going to take everything from them. I’m going to take everything from Severa—”

“Even me!?”

The siblings stared at each other for a tense ten seconds. The moment Morty saw Summer’s hand twitch, he dove into his breast pocket, pulled his gun, and pressed it to her forehead, simultaneously feeling her press her pistol to his chest.

They breathed quietly in the silent room. Morty felt sweat coat his palm and forced himself to harden his heart as he stared across at Summer.

“Morty, I want you to join me. I want you at my side as my  _partner_ —”

“I already have a partner—”

“A sociopathic madman!?”

“Summer, he adopted me!” Morty pressed his weapon harder into the delicate skin of his sister’s forehead. His  _sister’s forehead_ , “He—he took me in, cared for me— _cares_  for me. I don’t know what Dev told you, but he’s a demon—w-why do you trust a thing he says!?”

“Why do you trust a killer!?”

Morty couldn’t stomach her grief-stricken tone, her anguished voice, he dropped his gun and slouched into the couch. Summer also dropped her weapon and reached out, her burned hand clasping Morty’s fingers, “Morty,  _please_ ,”

“So,” Morty’s brain worked overtime, making connections, “D knocked out Liza from behind…enabling Jessica and Tammy to break in—”  
“Morty—”

“And it was  _him_ who planted the car bomb—”

“I didn’t know you were with Severa!”

“—Summer,” Morty glared at her, “D purposefully withheld that information. I’m-I’m always with Rick—no exception.”

Summer squeezed Morty’s fingers in her hand, “Morty, he’s not your Rick!  _Our_  Rick died saving me from the fire!”

“He  _is_  my Rick, Summer.” Morty threaded his fingers with his sister’s hand, “Summer…you have to stop.”

“I can’t. My plan is already in motion. The tunnel blueprints were the last thing I needed.” Summer released Morty’s hand and stood, “I want you beside me, not opposite me, brother.”

Morty stood as well and sadly shook his head, “Summer—”

She reached forward clasped his cheeks, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, releasing him just as quickly as she had snatched him, “I hate to do this, but—you…you have twenty-four hours Morty. I need an answer. I want your allegiance, but I won’t force it.” Tears welled in her eyes again but she scrubbed them away and then pulled her long gloves back on, “I can’t protect you if you choose the Citadel over me. My gang has been growing in the shadow of the Citadel’s rein for years… we are poised to take over. You cannot stop us. Feel free to run and warn your Don, warn your  _Rick_ ,” She spat the name out like a curse, “We are ready for a battle.”

Morty stepped backward toward the door at the back of the room. “Summer, I’ll figure out a way around this. I’m not losing the only family I-I have left in this world, and-and I know you hate to hear it, but Rick is my family too now.”

Summer shrugged and snapped her fingers. In seconds, heavily armed women entered the room and began to force Morty out the door.

“Please escort Mr. Smith into the foyer. Do  _not_  harm a single hair on his head, or you will answer to me.”

Morty allowed himself to be pushed out, glancing over his shoulder one last time at his sister before the door closed and they were separated once more. As he was pushed out into the cold outdoors, one of Summer’s lady enforcers hailed a cab and pushed him inside.

“Take him to Sanchez Estate. Put it on Donna Smith’s tab.”

“You got it, lady!”

Morty stared out the window and ignored the friendly cabbie’s attempts at conversation as he was driven home. His mind raced with a thousand different scenarios all of them ending in his death, Summer’s death, Rick’s death, or all three of them perishing. There had to be a way around it. When he was dropped off in front of the house, he stood still and stared at the sun in the sky. It was a little past noon at this point. He had until tomorrow afternoon before all hell inevitably broke loose.

Striding into the house, Morty was surprised that Liza didn’t rush over at the sound of his entry.

“Liza?”

Her soft voice echoed from down the hall, “In the parlor, Master Smith…”

Morty removed his jacket and his pistol holster as he walked through the hallway, tossing his articles onto a sedan beside the threshold to the parlor. “Liza, is Rick—”

He stopped dead in his tracks. A Morty dressed in a tight suit was lounging on the floor, paging through a fashion magazine. His long curly hair was nearly waist-length, and fanned out around him on the carpet. As Morty entered, he looked up with a smirk, and in a high-pitched exact mimicry of Liza’s voice he pittered, “Well, hello Master Smith!”

Morty clenched his fists, but a second, deeper voice alerted him to a second presence in the room.

“Morty.”

Spinning, Morty found himself face-to-face with Don Ricardo. He was lounging on Rick’s favorite couch, a half-empty bottle of wine in one hand, and a gun in his other, trained on Morty. “Why d-don’t you have a seat, pequeño perrito…I have some bad news for you.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Dios mio, so brave…” Don Ricardo licked his lips as he cocked his gun, “I’ll be sure to let Rick know you spent your last breaths alive being a brat.”

The switchblade against his forearm dropped into his palm as Morty imperceptibly tensed his muscles, ready to dodge, “No need, I’ll tell him myself when we’re cleaning you off the walls tonight.”


	6. Summer Solstice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer's Gang takes over the city by force, Rick and Morty grow closer, and a terrible betrayal puts everyone in danger.

Rick absentmindedly wiped blood off his hands as he briskly walked down the tunnels toward his house. Checking his watch he grimaced as he picked up the pace. It was already one o’clock in the afternoon; and at this point he had been separated from Morty for over 5 hours. He was angry and irritated that those two women had managed to outfox him, but he also had the good sense to realize that Morty was only valuable alive, so there was no reason for them to hurt him.

He hadn’t been idle in the five hours minus his usual companion. Rick had spent the better part of his solo excursion in the city savagely accruing information on the new family in town. The Calor Gang at first blush seemed like a shitty upstart crew that simply dabbled in mid-level jewelry theft, prostitution and gambling rings, but Rick’s physical investigations revealed a devious organization that has been skimming profits from the Citadel Family for years. Over three-fourths of the Family’s holdings in the city had been infiltrated in some way by one if not several of Calor’s all-female members, but rooting them out proved difficult. Arriving at his house, Rick sprinted up the stairs half-hoping Morty would be waiting for him on the other side.

No such luck, but Rick’s sharp ears picked up on the noisy evidence of a skirmish down the hall. Sprinting silently through the dark hallways, his heart lurching into his throat as he passed by Morty’s jacket and weapon-filled holster abandoned on the settee outside the parlor, Rick burst forth into the room.

A terrified Morty was hiding behind a couch and shrilly screaming as Don Ricardo strangled a partially-limp Morty on the floor. Bullet holes lined the walls, Morty’s knife jutted from the wall, pieces of the Don’s expensive shirt clinging to the blade, and blood was splashed against the floor in abstract splotches, the sight of which nearly sent Rick into hysterics. Charging across the room just as Don Ricardo looked up and saw him, Rick tackled him bodily to the floor.

Rolling away weakly, Morty clutched at his bruised and bloody throat as he hoarsely choked out a relieved “Riiick–!”

“Severa! Qué es lo—”

Rick’s fist brutally collided with Don Ricardo’s face, and he grinned as he both heard and felt his boss’s nose crunch beneath his knuckles. “I-I warned you, you stupid,” he punched again, “sneaky,” and again, “ _rotten motherfucker_!”

Rick suddenly felt himself flying forward as Don Ricardo jumped his legs up and grappled against him on the floor.

“Yo también te advertí, puta—”

“SHUT UP,” Rick had more to say prepared, but the sharp point of the Don’s elbow found his jaw and silenced him prematurely. The most difficult part about fighting…well, _himself_ , was that even though it was easier to predict the next move, Don Ricardo was just a hair faster than Rick.

Morty for his part had recovered and was slowly crawling to his knees by the couch. Worried for the teenager, Rick angled himself further away from that corner of the room, forcing Don Ricardo to back up and positioning himself in front of Morty.

The Don laughed hard and winked at Rick a half-second before forcing him down to the floor, “You’re _still_ trying to protect him, dios mio—you’ve gone so soft, Severa!”

“I am protecting him l-like I protect any of my tools; if he’s damaged he’s useless.”

“Oh, he’s your _tool_ , huh?” Don Ricardo leaned close and grinned, “You should loan him out to me then so I can use him for a while—”

Rick shoved his knee into the Don’s stomach before punching him again, relishing the feeling of his flesh beneath his fists. “H-have you ever personally witnessed silence y-y-you endless fucking prattle!?”

“Last chance to stand down, Severa, lo digo en serio—” Don Ricardo’s dark eyes narrowed as he stared up at Rick, “Your Morty has to die. Even if you beat me, it will only delay the inevitable—”

“He saved the life of Suave, and he’s an asset to the family, you nitwit! Why—”

“Hah!” Don Ricardo laughed genuinely, “You really don’t know, querido!? It never occurred to you to check his position among Mortys!?” Don Ricardo grit his teeth in an horrible amalgamation of a smile and a sneer, “He is at the furthest end of the spectrum—this shitty universe birthed the bravest, most loyal Morty out of all others in existence.”

Rick was surprised, he assumed his Morty happened to be on the more loyal end of the spectrum, but not the _most_ loyal. “So what!”

“So your Morty doesn’t just have a natural impulse to protect you—he is _driven_ by it, tonto! His loyalty and devotion to you is so strong it supersedes loyalty to me and the Family; I cannot allow that!”

Rick viciously beat Don Ricardo back down to the floor and twisted his hands around his throat, pushing his thumbs into the jumping jugular beneath him as his boss struggled desperately, “I’ll kill you first, you—”

Abruptly, the butt of a pistol slammed into the back of his head, and Rick’s vision blurred for a second as he careened forward, loosening his grip on the Don’s throat and face planting into the hard floor. Flipping onto his back, Rick was greeted by the sight of Morty, _his_ Morty, bruised, bloody, and disheveled, helping Don Ricardo to his feet as he trained his pistol at Rick’s head.

“N-no quick movements, Severa.”

Morty heard his own pulse thundering in his ears at the look of shock and incredulity on Rick’s face. The feeling of Don Ricardo’s hand in his own as he helped him stand made him nauseous, but he swallowed down his feelings and forced himself to breathe slowly to calm down.

“If m-my loyalty was in question, surely there was a better way to test it, boss.”

As Morty looked up at the Don he silently prayed that he sounded believable.

“ _What_? _”_

Morty swallowed, “I’ve never g-g-given you a reason to think I hold Severa higher than you.” Morty met the Don’s eyes in a steady gaze, “The Family always comes first. I know that already.”

Don Ricardo stared down at Morty. He wasn’t used to versions of the teenager that were competent. Generally he was surrounded by the sluttiest, dumbest, prettiest Morties existence itself had to offer, so interacting with one that was courageous, clever, and confident was a unique experience.

“Family first, eh, poco gamberro?” He narrowed his eyes as he pointed down at a furious La Severa Sanchez who was still half-sprawled on the parlor floor. “Happy to hear it. Kill him.”

Morty knew the demand would come and he was ready, “—And get rid of your most talented enforcer? Heaven preserve us, you’re asking me kill one of our best fighters right before a gang war just because you’re angry.” Morty felt himself withering inside…he didn’t know how long he could maintain his charade. “J-just because I’m loyal to-to you and the family doesn’t mean I’m going to obey ridiculous orders like that.”

Don Ricardo clenched his fists, “Careful, boy.”

Morty stayed silent. He badly wanted to look over at where he knew Rick was staring up at him from the floor, but he kept his eyes trained on the Don, and his gun trained on his mentor.

After an eternity, Don Ricardo suddenly straightened up, adjusted his jacket, and ran his hand through the messy strands of his long hair, “You’ve convinced me. You will both report tonight at Citadel headquarters at eighteen hundred hours.” Beckoning to his frightened Morty, he pulled his portal gun from inside his jacket and shot a portal at the wall. Before striding through, he half turned and glanced at them over his shoulder, “Prepare for level 4 combat.”

The second the portal closed after him, Morty’s knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He finally turned to look at Rick who had propped himself up on his elbows and was staring back at him with a strange expression.

Rick was a mess. Blue and green alien blood stained his clothes, and the recent fistfight with their boss had gifted him a few new bruises and cuts that leaked brilliant red blood.

A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth, “That was a dangerous bluff, Morty.”

Morty dropped the pistol with a dull thud on the carpet beside him and felt his shoulders droop as he relaxed for the first time all day. “I wasn’t sure he’d believe me.”

Laughing, Rick crawled over to him, and cradled the back of his head in his hand, drawing the teenager to him, “Oh, if I could tell y-you were bluffing, he could too. But he’s smart enough to recognize we’re too valuable as a team.” Rick pressed his forehead against Morty and stared at him. His hand twisted itself into the soft brown curls and Rick felt his chest constrict as he replayed the scene this morning in his head, “I was… _concerned_ when the Calor Gang kidnapped you this morning.”

Morty would have chuckled if Rick wasn’t so serious. It was abnormal for the old man to audibly express any kind of worry over his wellbeing. “Is that what Summer’s gang is called?”

“ _Summer_!?” Rick’s eyes widened, “Y-your _sister_!? From this univer—actually,” Rick got to his feet and yanked Morty up into his arms, “I don’t give a shit right now. I have a promise to keep to you, and given today’s events I’m going to make sure I take care of it now before this war gets worse.”

Morty gasped and felt his face flush as Rick cradled him bridal-style in his arms, “I-I—n-now?!” Morty touched his throat gently where his cut was a gooey half-scabbed wound, and raised his eyebrow at Rick’s level of grime, “Can’t we uhh—”

“What,” Rick jostled him in his arms as he walked upstairs, “Am I not pretty enough f-for you right now, you little shit?” Reaching the landing, he turned down the hall toward Morty’s room, “Or do y-you need to be all fresh and clean before I get you good and filthy again?”

Morty squirmed at the suggestion and pouted, “At-at least let me—”

Rick entered his room and tossed Morty onto his bed, “Whatever, kid. D-do what you gotta do, just don’t keep me waiting.”

By the time Morty lifted his head up from the mattress where he’d been thrown, Rick had already turned on his heel and was leaving the room. Morty rested his head back down against the mattress and breathed the scent of his comforter as he slowly pulled off his clothes. When he was nude he stood in front of his bureau mirror and rinsed his neck with a damp cloth and winced as he wound a bandage around his neck. The bump on the back of his head from Tammy throbbed still, and the other bruises and cuts he’d sustained needled at his attention, but he buzzed with excitement. Changing into new undergarments—it seemed pointless to fully change into clothes again, he nervously trotted back down the hall to Rick’s room and pushed open the cracked door.

His jaw dropped on its own accord as he stepped inside. Rick had cleaned himself off and was naked, seated casually in his massive velvet wingback chair beside the window, smoking a cigar and moodily puffing clouds of smoke into the room. When he looked up and noticed his slack-jawed young ward staring at him, he beckoned him and grinned, “See something you like, doll?” With some difficulty he climbed out of the chair, and Morty’s eyes fell to his lower abdomen where a dark stab wound dribbled blood down the side of his thigh.

“Rick!”

“Morty, don’t-don’t get all silly, it’s a shallow cut.” Rick picked up the familiar pot of salve from his nightstand and cross the room, he handed it to Morty, “This stuff needs to be rubbed in for it to work…heat and friction help heal the wound. W-would you—”

“Yes!” Morty dropped to his knees as Rick barked out a laugh above him.

“Egad, babe, y-you seem to be eager to be on your knees.”

Morty glanced coyly up at Rick as he opened the jar and scooped some of the tingly gel onto his fingertips. “Isn’t this the best position to worship someone?” He leaned forward and buried his face in the coarse patch of blue hair above Rick’s half-hard length, and pressed his mouth reverently against Rick’s warm skin.

“ _Fuck_ …” Rick gnawed on his cigar and fought the impulse to snatch Morty up from the floor, fling him onto the bed, and bang him to oblivion. With his face pressed against him still, the teenager’s hand moved to the wound and began gently rubbing the salve into his flesh. Grunting involuntarily, Rick steadied himself with a hand on Morty’s head as he felt the salve begin to work. He had lied, it was actually a fairly serious stab wound, but there was no need to frighten Morty more than necessary, and it wasn’t life-threatening anyway.

“Y-your fingers, Morty, y-you—” Rick breathed out smoke and panted slightly against the pain, “D-don’t be scared of hurting me, baby, rub hard against the wound, push the salve in or I won’t heal.”

Morty complied, and Rick struggled to refrain from audibly expressing how much it sucked. Below him, the kid must’ve been able to tell, because his mouth moved from his abdomen down to the base of his now fully-erect length.

Sighing, Rick grasped a handful of soft curls in his hand and dragged on his cigar one more time before reaching over and putting it out in the ash tray beside him on the bureau. “Alright, its—I’m healed, you can—”

“Oh!” Morty looked up at him from his position on the floor, “I can start now?” Without further invitation, he suddenly popped the head of Rick’s cock into his hot, wet mouth. Rick tasted salty and bitter—but Morty relished the flavor as he wrapped his hand around the base of him, braced his other hand against Rick’s thigh, and pushed his mouth further down like he’d seen whores do in the dark corners of nighttime streets.

Rick yanked at his hair and pulled him off, leaning down to hook his hands beneath Morty’s armpits and haul him up. Morty’s mouth opened to inquire why Rick had stopped him, but Rick took advantage and clamped his mouth against Morty, his tongue diving eagerly into the teen’s mouth. Hard hands tore the thin garments from his body and Morty felt himself half dragged, half carried to the bed, where he was shoved down into the soft comforter.

“W-where did you learn _that_?” Rick growled as he climbed on top of the bed and loomed over Morty.

“Jeez, jealous already?” Morty snickered, but Severa suddenly leaned down and pinched his face between his calloused thumb and forefinger.

“No, just curious. Trust me, y-you don’t want to see me jealous.”

Morty clasped his hands around Rick’s neck and pulled him down, “I won’t give you a reason to be.” Kissing the still-smoky mouth of Rick, Morty felt his groin twitch expectantly as Rick’s hands dropped to roam over his skin. It was incredible that hands so capable of violence could be so tender, and closing his eyes against the sensation, Morty heard himself groan deep in his throat as Rick’s warm hand wrapped around his length and squeezed.

“Mine.” Rick jacked him off slowly, moving his mouth from Morty’s face down to his chest, murmuring against the hollow beneath his pectorals where his heart beat. He kissed hard here, memorizing the way Morty’s heartbeat felt beneath his lips. “D-do you hear me? You’re mine, Morty.”

Morty thrust up into his palm and nodded as he smoothed his hands into Rick’s hair “Yesss—”

Nudging apart Morty’s legs, Rick stretched out between them, and slowly licked him from base to tip, smiling at the way Morty’s legs squirmed against him.

“Ahh-Rick—”

“Mhm?” Rick smoothed his lips over the head of Morty’s cock and slowly, agonizingly slowly pushed his mouth down and over him, swirling the precum around in his mouth. Glancing up, he spotted Morty’s blushed face staring with a combination of fascination and infatuation. Rick squeezed his soft thighs in his palms, smirking at the noises Morty made above him.

Pulling off for a moment, Rick spat onto his hand and dove back down, pressing his fingertips between the cleft of Morty’s ass as he hiked one of the teenagers knees up and over his shoulder.

“Zic won’t want you anymore after this, y’know…”

“Shhh-shhhut—ahh—shut up Rick—”

Rick grinned as he pressed a wet finger firmly against Morty’s tight little hole, “Tch tch, watch the tone, kid. Just because you’re a virgin doesn’t mean I’m gonna go easy on you.”

Except that was precisely what Rick was doing. He gently rubbed against Morty, coaxing him open as he returned to sucking him off. Morty arched up, thrusting into his mouth as his finger popped in, and he wiggled his digit back and forth.

“I’m—Mm!!” Morty tangled his hands in Rick’s hair and threw his head against the pillow, “Rick, I won’t—I can’t—”

Rick grinned and sitting back on his heels he pulled his finger out of Morty, flipped him over onto his stomach and flung himself forward once more, pulling apart Morty’s ass and burying his face.

“RICK!”

Morty’s hands scrambled across the bed as he grasped the comforter, the pillows, anything to hold on for dear life as Rick’s tongue entered him in way he never thought possible. Cleanliness crossed his mind for a half-second, but then two of Rick’s fingers entered him, and pressed down on a spot that made him rear his head back and forget his first name.

“Oh my stars,” Rick chuckled, “L-look how sensitive you are, doll.” Rick added a third finger as Morty gasped in pain, and then pressed down on his prostate again, “Y-you’re gonna be dreaming about this, I bet…”

Morty could only respond with a drawn out groan as he buried his head in the pillow and tried to understand how it was possible to feel this good. “Riiiick—Rick,” Morty twisted partially to stare, red-faced and sweaty, “C-c’mon Rick.”

“Don’t rush me.” Rick rubbed against Morty, and relished the way his cock looked sandwiched between the two soft mounds. Morty was so tight it was probably going to hurt. Leaning over to the nightstand, he fumbled in the drawer before finding lube and carelessly pouring it onto both himself and Morty, soaking the bed beneath them in his haste.

“But I want it—” Morty backed up against him, and wiggled. “J-just do it, I’ll be fine—”

“You are such a slut.” Rick pressed his tip against Morty and pushed gently, “T-take a deep breath, baby.” As he heard Morty inhale, Rick pushed in, centimeter by centimeter as Morty squirmed underneath him.

“J-jeez…” Pressing his face against the bed, Morty bit back a yelp of pain, “Y-you’re really big Rick…”

“What an astute observation, Morty.” Rick was flush against him, his hips digging into Morty’s ass as he let him get adjusted to the feeling. He kissed the boy beneath him, dragging his tongue against his neck, gently tugging his hair aside so he could nibble Morty’s ears. When he moved, he only rocked his hips slightly, just enough to gauge Morty’s reaction.

“Ohhhh—” Morty tensed and then relaxed, turning his head to the side to catch Rick’s mouth in a clumsy kiss.

Rick moved again, thrusting just a bit, Morty was tight; but that second small movement pulled the smoothest, sweetest groan from the kid Rick made a mental note to do this as often as possible if only to hear Morty make that noise again.

Rick leaned back and pulled Morty up by the shoulders and then his hips so he was on all fours, and then Rick entered him again, faster this time, and with a shocked gasp of pleasure, Morty half turned, “Gods, p-please don’t stop—”

Rick obliged. He wrapped his right hand around the hard point of Morty’s hip, and his left snuck to the front and jacked him off as Rick thrust harder into him.

“N-next time Morty,” Rick worked up to a rhythm now, and smacked Morty’s ass affectionately as he pumped in and out of him, “Next time I’m going to m-make you scream—but for now,” he angled himself differently, and thrust in slowly, being sure to hit that tight little bundle of nerves inside, grinning as Morty groaned loudly to the ceiling, “…for now I like hearing _that_ enough.”

“Hahh—I’m—Rick!”

Snorting, Rick jacked him off faster, squeezing Morty tightly in the palm of his hand, “Gotta bust already, doll? W-we’ll work on your stamina…”

Whether or not Morty heard that last comment was a mystery, because with a fevered, hi-pitched voice, he called Rick’s name, and a hot burst exploded over Rick’s fingers and onto the bed.

“Fuck, Morty—“ Rick moved his hand to grip the other side of Morty’s hips and rammed into him, picking up the pace as he felt himself get close as well, “S-so goddamn cute. You’ll be the death of me.”

“Mmhmmm—“ Morty rocked back into Rick, matching his thrusts, and with a low grunt, Rick thrust one last time and clutched Morty’s sides hard, digging his nails into the soft flesh as he came hard.

He pulled out and they both collapsed against the bed, panting in the silence of the room.

“Th-that—ohh—” Morty beamed at Rick, “That was brilliant!”

“Eh.” Rick blindly fumbled for his cigar, stuck it between his teeth, lit it, and dragged, “Not my best performance, but we were in a bit of a rush today. Next time I’ll fuck you good and proper so you can’t walk straight after,” he turned and winked at Morty, snickering when the teenager blushed in response.

Tugging him to lay closer, Rick ran his hand through Morty’s hair as he rested his head on Rick’s chest. “You should sleep a little. I’ll wake y-you up before we need to leave.”

Yawning, Morty nodded against Rick’s chest, “Mmkay.”

* * *

Hours later when they arrived at Citadel Headquarters in the center of the city, various Family grunts and muscle were stationed outside the main banquet hall, and as Rick lead the way past them through the double doors, Morty’s eyes widened at the assembled group. It was exclusively Ricks and Mortys.

The three main bosses of the Citadel Family were present and seated beside each other in the mammoth banquet hall. Don Ricardo had his long hair tied neatly into a braid and with his hair out of his face, Morty could tell by looking at him that Rick had broken his nose. Beside him, Don Suave cradled an overly-full glass of red wine and sternly looked out at the audience. Finally, seated at the end, Don Matar, whom Morty had only seen once or twice, sat perfectly still with his hands folded on the table and his eyes closed. Don Matar’s long braided hair fell in thick locks around his shoulders and arms and while Morty had heard that he was a brilliant hand-to-hand combatant, he wondered how he managed with all that hair.

“La Severa confirmed the presence of FBI stooges in the city a few weeks ago,” Don Suave began, “They are working with the Galactic Federation, so this planet as of now is no longer a suitable base of operations. Gromflomites will be too difficult to deal with.”

Don Matar opened his eyes finally as he nodded, “We are dealing with a double threat presently: the Calor Gang is about to make its move, and with both an Earth-bound and extra-terrestrial government security presences in the city, we must be strategic in our movements.”

A different Rick spoke up from the assembled group, “How the f-euughh-uck did the FBI manage to contact an extra-terrestrial military?”

Don Ricardo frowned, “The betrayal most likely came from _within_ the Family. This is why this meeting has been reserved for Ricks and their associates only. Galactic Federation and the FBI are not our priority right now however. Those organizations won’t make a move until they need to. Right now, we should deal with the Calor Gang.”

Morty felt his chest tighten and he thought of his sister.

The shrill beep of one of the Ricks’ communicators interrupted the assembly.

“Boss,” One of the Mortys stepped forward to the front, “W-we just got a message from the Tanner-Kingsley Speakeasy—it’s uh…been…taken over by women? What the—”

“Boss—Red Rose too.” Another Morty waved his Rick’s communicator, “I’m g-getting the same message?”

Don Suave held his hand out, “Let me see—”

But an abrupt and unexpected explosion suddenly rocked the building, sending everyone crashing into the floor. The noise was deafening, and to his horror, Morty felt the ground shift and shudder beneath his feet and hands as he struggled to get to his feet.

“Morty!”

Morty felt Rick grab him and hold him to his chest as he opened a portal and dove through it. The last thing Morty saw was dozens of portals opening as Ricks and their Mortys escaped the crumbling room as the floor dropped out from the banquet hall.

The portal reopened across the street. As Morty stumbled out and stood on the sidewalk, he watched with a strange mixture of terror and fascination as the Citadel Family Headquarters crumbled to the ground before his very eyes.

“Jeez…”

Morty looked to his side where another Morty was staring at the destruction in awe.  

Rick’s steely calm voice broke through the commotion of smoke and fire and debris, “Doll, brace yourself.” Morty looked up at Severa beside him who had drawn his weapon and was scanning the street. All around them, Ricks and Mortys dashed back and forth through portals, escaping the building. Inside, the terrified screams of mob members who hadn’t made it out before the building were the soundtrack that accompanied the sudden motorcade that sped down the street. With a flash of dismay, Morty recognized his sister instantly.

The motorcade was seven cars total, fat, glamorous and flashy, with gleaming black and gold paintjobs. In the center, standing up in the back seat of a drop-top Renault CV was Donna Summer Smith in her terrible glory. She was dressed in a sharply cut all-white suit and black gloves. In her hands she carried a mammoth sawed-off shotgun and her curly red hair fanned out behind her in the wind. Flanking her on either side, Tammy and Jess were wearing black three piece suits and carrying tommy guns.

“Salutations!” Summer was grinning, and it sent chills down Morty’s spine that the people in his life delighted so thoroughly in violence.

“I’ve come to introduce myself! I am Donna Summer Smith,” she paused and met Morty’s eyes suddenly, “And I own this city now. Flee while you can; the Calor Gang will shoot Citadel members on sight.”

As if to punctuate the promise, when a Rick nearby raised his weapon to shoot at her, he was dropped by a single bullet from Tammy’s gun.

All hell broke loose. Morty sprinted alongside Rick as the largest firefight the teenager had ever witnessed erupted beneath the streetlights on the street. The women of the Calor Gang were consummate warriors and in a matter of minutes, Morty found that unbelievably, the Citadel was on the losing side of the conflict. Summer wasn’t lying when she said her gang was prepared.

Rick pulled him behind the shattered remains of some of the concrete of the building. Also taking cover behind the rubble were two Morties and Don Ricardo. All three were bleeding and had their weapons drawn. The moment Rick and Morty ducked behind the wreckage, a sudden stray bullet broke through the concrete, hit one of the Mortys through his back and exploded from his chest, dropping him dead at their feet. Don Ricardo callously kicked the limp body away and growled, “We’re sitting ducks, and they’re using Xaxar firearms.”

“Fuck.” Severa knelt beside Don Ricardo and pulled Morty down beside them. “I think it’s time for a tactical retreat, boss.”

Another loud explosion from elsewhere in the city rocked the ground once more, and as it passed, the Don nodded and pressed a button on his portal gun. “Si.”

The portal guns of all the Ricks still fighting on the street beeped loudly, and just as before in the banquet hall, dozens of portals began opening as Ricks and Mortys made hasty exits from the losing battle.

Beside him, Rick opened a portal on the ground, and began pushing Morty into it, but Don Ricardo reached out and grabbed them both by the shoulders.

“If you’re truly eager to show your loyalty, this is your opportunity,” Don Ricardo glared down at them, “I’m ordering a hit on Donna Summer. I want her dead by tomorrow night.”

Morty opened his mouth to reply, but Rick forced him through the portal just as another bullet ripped through the concrete. Tumbling out into the foyer of Rick’s house, Morty scrambled to his feet.

“Rick, we _can’t_!” Morty grasped his shirt in his fists, “ _Please_ , I-I can’t, I won’t—”

“Morty—Morty, I know, it’s okay,” Rick untangled himself from Morty’s hands and held them firmly as he closed his eyes and frowned, “Sh-shut up and let me think for one goddamn moment.”

It was a challenge for Morty to not freak out. The events of the past 24 hours had stretched him further than ever before and not only was he exhausted, he felt frazzled and unstable. Summer was fiercer than he anticipated, and he was still processing the fact that she had just blown up the Citadel Family headquarters.

“Morty.”

Looking up at his mentor, Morty felt a chill run down his spine at Rick’s expression. “Y-yes?”

Rick hesitated and then forged ahead, “M-morty, we gotta run.”

“Whu—Rick, are you—we can’t—”

“We have no other options Morty,” Rick ran a hand through his hair, “I can’t—the only way I can protect us both is to leave. We’ll start a new life somewhere else—I don’t want to fucking do this shit any more anyway—”

“There’s no way the Don’s would let us leave alive!” Morty grabbed his shirt again, “They’d hunt us down Rick, we’d be running forever!”

“Hey, have a little faith,” Rick snorted with derision and frowned down at Morty, “I won’t let you get hurt, Morty.”

The idea of abandoning the city in the midst of a gang war and escaping this life of violence was endlessly appealing to Morty, but it seemed too good to be true. Looking up into Rick’s bright blue eyes, Morty tried to feel hopeful, “Rick, can we at least warn Summer that the Don put a hit on her?”

Rick nodded, “Y-you’re supposed to see her at noon tomorrow right? After that, we make our escape.”

He leaned forward and pecked Morty on the forehead, but the teenager couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that filled his bones.

* * *

“He can’t come in.”

Sunlight streamed through the lacy curtains of the foyer of Summer’s base. Jess was standing cross-armed and bemused as she spoke to them. When they had arrived earlier, she and another member of the Calor Gang had patted them both down and taken away everything they carried except for their clothes.

Morty clenched his fists at his side, “Y-you already took all our weapons away, what could he possibly do!?”

Jess sneered, “He’s a _Rick_ , you never know what the hell they’re going to do.”

“She has a point.”

Morty whirled on him, “Rick, shhh.” Turning back to Jess, he pleaded, “Jess, _please_ , we both need to see Summer. It’s important.”

Jess turned on her heel, “I’ll check with the Donna. Wait here.”

As she left, Rick and Morty were left in the empty foyer of Summer’s base of operations. They had spent the better part of the day packing and getting ready to leave the city. The city was still in an uproar from the previous night. Roving groups of Citadel and Calor members roamed the streets freely, starting fights with each other as people looted buildings and the police hid from the violence.

Morty couldn’t wait to be gone. Just a little longer and he and Rick would be far away.

“You’re both clear. Please come in.” Jess opened the door and ushered them both in.

Summer was seated on the low couch Morty remembered from the first time he met her here. She was dressed in an expensive gown, and in front of her on a glass table were five portal guns neatly lined up.

Rick’s eyes narrowed as he spotted them, and catching the expression, Summer smiled lightly, “Do you like my little collection?” She crossed her legs and adjusted one of the gloves she wore, “I like to keep little trophies when I kill big game.”

“You—”

“ _Rick_.” Morty stepped in front of him and glared at Summer, “Th-that’s gross Summer, but we don’t have time to argue about that. You’re in danger!”

“Oh?”

Morty nodded hard, “There’s been a hit ordered on you. You’re not safe, you should either go into hiding, or leave with us,”

“Morty, don’t—”

Morty ignored him…what if Summer _did_ come with them? Would that really be so bad? “We’re escaping tonight. Run away with us, Summer!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Summer stood, “I just took over the city and you want me to abandon all my hard work to escape with my dumb brother and my parent’s murderer!?”

Rick suddenly straightened and frowned, “I don’t know w-where you got that info from, Summer, but whichever Rick killed your parents, it wasn’t me.”

“DON’T LIE!” Summer’s face flushed red as she planted her hands on her hips. “I _know_ it was you!”

Rick shrugged, “Sorry, I only started w-working as an enforcer in this universe about seven or eight years ago. Your parents got popped before that.”

“Shut up!” Summer pointed at the door, “Get out. I don’t need to listen to your shitty lies. Good luck Morty, and don’t turn your back on this asshole; you can’t trust him.”

“Summer—”

“Morty, I don’t—”

Gunshots outside interrupted their conversation, and instantly, Summer and Jess grabbed their pistols as Rick and Morty whipped around. The door to Summer’s office suddenly splintered in from outside, and a blue-green pod was tossed inside. Rick grabbed Morty and dove to the side, “Get DOWN!”

The alien flashbang exploded in a horrible crash of noise and light, blinding and deafening everyone inside temporarily as dark figures filtered in through the remains of the double doors.

Rick got to his feet first, and helped Morty to his feet. “Fucking bitches took our fucking guns and now look at this fucking mess—” Rick looked up at the door and groaned, “Ffffuuuck.”

Morty followed his eyes and felt his stomach twist in shock and fear. Tammy was leading the way into the room, followed closely by FBI and Gromflomites carrying guns.

“Tammy!” Summer was livid, and she trained her gun at her former friend, “What—what are you doing!?”

“I’m arresting you, sunshine.” Tammy snapped her fingers and Gromflomites surged forward as Summer and Jess backed up with their weapons drawn.

“You realize how many women are loyal to me, you idiot!?” Summer glared at the group. They were outnumbered almost four to one, she didn’t see a way out and that terrified her. “We just took over the city, how do you expect to get them to stand down!?”

Summer swallowed hard as from the midst of the group D slowly emerged. To her horror, his head shapeshifted into a perfect version of her face and as he opened his mouth, her voice came out, “Donna Summer will order them to.”

Morty watched the scene before him unfold in revulsion; he had told Summer not to trust a demon. Behind him, he felt Rick tug him slightly off to the side and understood the tiny movement. They were about to make a run for it.

Unfortunately, Tammy’s sharp eyes caught the movement too, and she turned and raised her gun with a smirk.

“You took my ear you bastard, I’m gonna take your life.”

Rick had had many guns pointed at him in his life, and the strange sensation of time slowing down seemed to happen every time. The exception was this was the very first time someone was diving in front of him.

The shot echoed loudly against the walls of the room, and Rick felt Morty’s body slam into him from the force of the bullet. They fell to the ground together as Morty clutched at his shirt and dark blood gushed from his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pair of positively amazing creators named Futagogo made some art depicting the scene where Donna Summer arrives on her gold and white motorcade. Futagogo is an awesome tumblr to follow, and they are also the ingenius authors behind "Citadel of Lost Children" which I highly, highly recommend if you haven't read it already. 
> 
> Please check out this awesome artwork here: http://futagogo.tumblr.com/post/148005839185/fanart-for-the-fanfic-the-ricking-twenties-by


	7. Escape and Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick, Summer, and Jessica attempt to rescue Morty and escape from the City. With the Galactic Federation, the FBI, and the Citadel after them, their chances are slim.

Every miserable, anguished breath Morty took was punctuated with a wail of pain as he struggled to refrain from screaming. Rick stripped off his coat, wound it around his hand and then pressed it to Morty’s chest.

“SUMMER!”

Guns blazing, the redhead turned partially to glance in their direction. Rick was straddling Morty, and her brother was lying in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. Summer felt her heart stutter in her chest at the sight, and a bullet clipped her cheek as she stared in shock.

“Augh!” Dropping to one knee, and clapping a hand to her bleeding face, Summer fired forward as she yelled for Jessica. “Jess! Portal Rick and my brother to T-17!”

Sprinting for cover, Jessica dug in her suit jacket, emerging with Summer’s modified portal gun which she shot in Rick’s direction. A portal opened beneath them, and Rick twisted them in midair as they fell through the portal. He landed hard on his back, and Morty followed, smacking into his chest with a dull, pained groan. Rick took note of their surroundings; they were in the underground tunnels on the west side of the city, near the outskirts, miles away from Summer’s hideout. Summer had evidently been using this location for storage. Three white and gold automobiles were lined up neatly on one side of the tunnel wall, while the other was stacked with shelves of weapons, ammunition and a huge map of the city.

Rick maneuvered out from beneath Morty and gently picked him up. The teenager was ghostly pale and his unfocused eyes dumbly stared up at nothing as his agonized breathing heaved his chest back and forth.

“Hold on, doll.” Rick ignored the fevered racing of his pulse and forced himself to concentrate. He wrenched open the door of one of the cars and climbed in, laying Morty on the backseat, and ripping open his soaked shirt. The bullet had lodged itself deep in Morty’s chest and the boy gasped like a fish, blood continuing to spurt from the wound as Morty started to go into shock. Rick’s pressure against the wound held back some of the blood, but in his opinion they had only precious few minutes before Morty died in his arms. Just as Rick was about to start to internally panic, the easily-distinguishable sound of a portal opening pricked his ears, and as he whipped his head behind him, Summer and Jessica tumbled from a portal and landed hard on the ground, followed by a heavy-sounding satchel.

Jess was on her feet first, and with the portal gun in hand, she dashed for the car and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Finally, _fuck_ , y-y-you realize—you realize he’s dying right!?”

Morty’s choked groan of surprise made Rick shush him gently, as he berated Summer who hurried to the car. “Summer, you f-fucking—”

“Not now!” Summer climbed into the back seat with them and threw her satchel on the floor as she smacked Jess on the shoulder, “Jess, go!”

“No!” Rick grabbed Summer’s wrist, “You idiot, he won’t survive the ride to a hospital!”

“I know that, why do you think it took us so long to portal here!?” Summer reached into her pack and pulled out the stolen jar of salve, half-empty and smudged from frequent use. Summer’s ashen face was terrified as she handed it over, “Please tell me this will work!”

Grabbing the little jar, Rick wrenched it open and peered inside, “Th-there’s just enough, but we don’t h-have a lot of time.”

In front, the engine roared to life. Rick yelled over the engine, “We don’t have to go to the hospital, turn this thing off!”

Summer shook her head, “Tammy knows our location code names, we have a couple minutes tops before they show up, we gotta go.”

“ _Fuck._ ” Rick held Morty still as the car lurched forward and started racing down the bumpy, narrow tunnel. The boy was barely conscious, but what Rick was about to do would shock him right back to full-functioning. Rick felt his chest constrict at the knowledge of what he was about to put Morty through.

As softly as he could, Rick took Morty’s arms and placed them up above his head in Summer’s lap. Fixing her with a sharp gaze he angrily commanded, “Hold him still no matter what, do you understand?”

Summer solemnly nodded and tightly grasped Morty’s wrists in her hands. Rick reached forward and plucked the long, golden cigarette holder that was poking out of a pocket on Summer’s pack. Looking down at Morty, and past the point of caring about outward appearances, Rick gently touched his cheek.

“Morty, I gotta, I-I-I gotta get the bullet out, baby.”

Morty nodded slightly as he groaned and writhed in pain against the backseat. Straddling his legs, Rick angled the narrow end of the cigarette holder above the dark, angry wound and taking a deep breath, he slid the metal tip in and started digging for the hard lump of metal he knew was inside Morty’s chest.

Beneath him, Morty screamed. It was the worst sound Rick had ever heard in his many years of being alive.

“RICK, You’re—”

“Shut up!” Ignoring Summer, Rick planted his free hand against Morty’s chest to keep him cemented to the back seat as Morty shrieked and cried in pain while the narrow tip of Rick’s makeshift tool poked around inside him. Rick felt the tip poke against the hard, round edge of the bullet, and deftly angling the cigarette holder back up, he dragged the bullet to the top of Morty’s chest and with a final flick of his wrist, popped out the quarter-sized slug.

Somehow finding strength still in him, Morty bucked in pain, nearly ripping his hands out of Summer’s grasp as Rick dug his fingers into the salve and wrestled Morty flat against the back seat again.

“I’m—Morty, I’m sorry, I-I have to do this—y-you gotta to bite down on something?”

Morty’s mouth flopped open wider at the question and Rick, failing to find anything immediately available, pressed his forearm into Morty’s mouth. Steeling himself, Rick tried to catch Morty’s gaze to reassure him, but the teenager was delirious, so Rick directed his comment at his sister instead: “Hold on,” before promptly shoving his salve-covered finger into the bullet wound, all the way up to his knuckle.

Rick instantly felt Morty bite hard enough to break skin and draw blood. “I know Morty, i-it’s okay,” Rick pressed his finger against the walls of the wound, as he and Summer struggled to hold the groaning, thrashing teenager still. Rick’s finger was in such close proximity to Morty’s heart, the old man could feel the rapid, fluttery beat of his pulse as blood pumped around his finger and the muscle and flesh little by little knit itself back together. The healing tissues beneath Rick’s finger pushed up against the digit, forcing it out slowly, as he rubbed the salve in. Gradually, Morty quieted down to a dull, continuous groan as finally the wound closed over, leaving a thick, knotty scar where Rick’s finger had been.

Summer released his hands and instantly Morty curled into fetal position, wrapping his arms against his chest and shaking violently against the car seat. Summer touched his shoulder, but the teenager wrenched away from the contact, his pale face glancing up from between his arms as he shot a panicked look between Summer and Rick before hoarsely whispering,

“Don’t touch me.”

“Summer.”

She looked across at Rick, who was facing forward, bloody hands clenched on his knees as he stared at the back of the driver’s seat. He spoke in terse, clipped tones,

“H-he’s pretty traumatized, j-just leave him be for now.”

Summer opened her mouth to argue, but Rick fixed her with such a deadly glare she closed her lips and instead worriedly twisted her hands in her lap. Rick sympathized; he was busy restraining himself from scooping Morty up into his lap and holding him as well, but he recognized PTSD when he saw it and thought it best for Morty to be the one to reach out if he wanted or needed to.

Jessica’s quiet voice cut through: “Donna Summer, we’re coming up to the southbound intersection by the final train stop.”

Summer glanced down at her brother and then up at Rick, “Rick, we might run into…” she paused and chewed her lip, “ _interference_. Can heeeee…uh, handle it?”

Shrugging, Rick reached down between his legs and pulled a shot gun from beneath his seat, “Whether or-or not he can handle it is irrelevant; w-we need’ta escape.”

Jessica banged a hard right through the tunnels sending the passengers in the backseat careening into one another, and then slammed on the breaks.

“Summer, Rick, 12 o’clock.”

A Gromflomite barricade was blocking off the tunnel they turned down. Fortunately, Jessica saw them first, unfortunately, the tunnel was too narrow to turn around in. As Summer and Rick leaned out of the windows, weapons drawn, Jessica whipped her head around, threw the gear into reverse and started backing up at breakneck speed while the grill was blown to bits by alien gunfire. Morty fell to the floor of the back seat and stuck his fingers in his ears as Rick paused to reload. Stripping off his shirt, he tossed it over Morty’s head to at least physically shield him in some way, however ineffective, and leaned back out the window, killing two Gromflomites in two seconds as he and Summer provided cover fire for Jessica. Back in the main tunnel, Jessica spun the wheel, whipped the car back around and sped down the straightaway as Rick ducked back inside to check on Morty. He lifted up his shirt to look at the teenager balled up on the ground, hands against his head, and face pressed into his knees. He dropped the shirt back on top of him and grimaced.

“Summer, w-we’re sitting ducks in the tunnels—”

Shooting the last pursuer dead, Summer slid back in and reloaded, “I know. At the train station, there’s a tunnel opening I built into a hidden wall that leads out into Pan Boulevard. If we can make it out, we’ll be able to get to my safe house in the suburbs.”

Rick glanced down at Morty as he also reloaded his weapon, “…I’m not sure how mobile he is. When y-you say _tunnel opening_ , are you—”

Summer grimaced, “Ahh—it’s…just a door. If you want to stay in the car then…”

“We’ll have to ram it.” In the front, Jessica shifted into a higher gear as the car barreled down the empty tunnels, “Donna Summer, I think I can get up out of the tunnels, but once we’re on the streets again, we’ll be visible.”

Summer reached into her breast pocket, emerging with a little black book of addresses neatly scribbled within. She paged through rapidly as Jessica rounded another corner, and a massive brick wall punctuated by a small wooden door in its center loomed ahead. “Jess, take 6th and Black, we’ll drive up to Rizzoli Pizzeria and make the switch to the Lancia Lambda and then head to the country house.”

“What if the car isn’t there?”

Summer looked across at Rick who shrugged in response. Steeling herself, Summer nodded and pulled her seatbelt tighter in preparation for the wild ride head. “We have to chance it, that’s the only other car big enough for all of us and that area of town is quiet.”

“Sit tight, we’re coming up on the tunnel wall.”

Jessica’s terse warning prompted immediate action from Rick, who, despite Morty’s protests, pulled the younger man into his lap, and strapped them both into the seat, before wrapping his arms protectively around him.

The engine roared as Jessica floored the gas pedal, shifted into the highest gear the car could handle, and then ducked below the dashboard as the automobile screamed its way toward the wall.

“HOLD ON!”

They smashed into, and _through_ the brick wall with a thunderous crunch. Loose bricks, dust and debris threw a cloud of powder that temporarily disoriented Jessica as she leaned her head out of the broken window and attempted to regain control of the car. They barreled out into a mostly-empty city street, sideswiped two parked cars and then whizzed down the middle of the road as Jessica fought with the steering wheel and her passengers alternated between screaming and swearing behind her.

Finally the car righted itself on all four wheels, the windshield wipers removed about half of the dust, and Jessica sped them along in a now-dilapidated car up a hill to the aforementioned pizzeria. As Summer hoped, a sleek black car was waiting in the back, and as soon as Jessica parked, Summer and Rick hurriedly carried Morty from one car to the next, as the red-headed driver busied herself with starting car number two.

With Morty safely strapped in, Summer climbed into the front beside Jessica just as the car revved to life. Police sirens echoed in the distance and Summer jostled Jessica fearfully.

“Let’s go. Keep the car under the speed limits. If we see anyone, Rick, Morty, and I will duck down.”

“Affirmative.” Jessica threw the car in gear, backed out of the parking lot and swiftly carried the group back through the streets toward the outskirts of the city. In the backseat, Rick held a shaking, shivering Morty in his arms.

 

* * *

 

The country house Summer had referenced was a sprawling, run-down plantation mansion miles away from city limits. Half the house was fenced off and declared uninhabitable, and the rooms that were livable were dark, dingy, and smelled faintly of gunpowder and smoke. It was evening when they finally arrived, and Rick carried a sleeping Morty from the backseat of the car into the house, where the boy was gently laid on a couch and covered in Summer’s mink fur coat.

Jessica, the most clear-headed of the group, turned lights on, demanded everyone change clothes, and while Summer and Rick were upstairs, she heated up tins of canned soup she scrounged up in the pantry and laid out the simple, but welcome dinner on the dining room table just as her boss and the old man returned.

“Jess—” Summer tenderly squeezed her shoulder, “My darling, what would I do without you?”

“Die, probably.” Jessica smiled gently and steered Summer toward a chair, “sit and eat, boss. I’ll keep watch over Morty while the two of you figure out our next step.”

As Summer sat down, she held on to the corner of Jessica’s sleeve, “Aren’t you hungry—Jess, you’ve been brilliant, you must—”

“I am your tool,” Jessica firmly, but sweetly removed Summer’s grasping hand and backed up toward the threshold of the dining room with a gracious little bow, “Don’t worry about me Donna Summer, I will dine when you and Severa have had your fill.”

As she exited the room, Summer’s eyes lingered where she had stood a moment prior before turning back to Rick who was gazing across the table at her with a bemused expression.

Summer’s eyes narrowed as she selected and poured a hot can of soup into her bowl, “Yes?”

“Heh,” Rick poured himself soup and raised his eyebrow over at the redhead, “M-mixing business with pleasure, I see.”

“Shut up, you’re clearly screwing my brother, so I hardly think you’re one to comment.”

Rick let the comment pass and turned his attention to the murky bowl of liquid in front of him. Picking through it with his spoon, he sighed, “I g-gotta admit, I didn’t foresee m-m-my-my week turning out like this.”

“Hmph.” Summer stirred her broth and looked toward the ceiling, “Well, enjoy the temporary respite; it’ll only be a few hours before Tammy and figures out we’ve retreated here.”

Rick eyed his surroundings. His mind was dulled from repeated shootouts over the past few days, but his sharp gaze pin pointed structural weaknesses in the walls, the copious amount of windows that needed protection, the isolated location of the house…this would be a shithole of a last defense if it came down to it. Swallowing down a few spoonfuls, forcing himself to consume calories for energy, Rick rubbed his unshaven chin and spoke again, “The car outside won’t take us far b-before we need to refuel. A-and any of my portal guns link back to Citadel headquarters to pinpoint my location wherever I go; it’d take me-take me weeks to hack one.”

Summer paused, and then chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought, “ _All_ portal guns link back?”

“W-well, all of the Rick’s in this dimension for the past two decades have been transplants via the Citadel, so—”

“What about…” Summer’s eyes widened as her brain slowly connected the dots, “Rick, what about the portal gun belonging to my grandfather? The Rick from _this_ dimension? He had no mob ties!”

Rick nearly dropped his spoon, “Where is it?!”

The redhead’s face fell, “I haven’t used it since I was a kid. After the fire, I used it to portal in and out of department stores and banks…I stole until I had enough to start building a gang of my own, and after we…” Her eyes darted up to Rick’s face across the table and she continued in a cautious voice, “-ahem- _eliminated_ the first of our opposition, I took his portal gun, and began using that one instead.”

Rick shrugged at Summer’s tacit confession, “I don’t care that you’ve killed Ricks, Summer.” He pushed his bowl away and folded his hands, “Where’s your original portal gun now, and how can we get to it?”

“The warehouse.” Summer paused, “Jessica and I can try to infiltrate, but we’d have to come up with a plan first.”

Rick nodded and stared at his food. “W-well start planning. Between the Citadel, the FBI, and the Gromflomites plus Tammy, we have less than twenty four hours to figure out o-our next move."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As noted in previous chapters, this fic was all written as a small birthday present and homage to one of my all-time favorite artists, chuubunii (you can find her tumblr at chuubunii.tumblr.com) this fic was intended to be a quick one-shot but it grew into this really long chapter fic you are now reading. 
> 
> ANYWAY! This artist just created an illustrated depiction of the scene at the very beginning of this chapter and it is absolutely lovely. Please check it out and follow chuubunii on tumblr, she is amazing and sweet and her art is awesome! <3
> 
> http://chuubunii.tumblr.com/post/162310316973/illustrated-what-was-probably-my-favorite-scene


	8. Two Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer and Jessica begin a dangerous mission. Rick embraces his uncharacteristic devotion to his young apprentice; they enjoy the lull before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note-- This chapter includes a fairly aggressive, rough sex scene. If you wish to avoid this, stop reading at the part Morty says "Fingerrssss" and skip down until you see the single paragraph dialogue - "Sit." It's about twenty-two total paragraph breaks you'll need to skip. Stay safe and I hope this is helpful.

As Jessica and Summer poured their matching red heads over warehouse blueprints in the kitchen, Rick retreated to the parlor where he found Morty awake and seated by a boarded-up window. The boy didn’t turn as Rick entered the room and instead continued moodily looking at the overgrown, moonlit gardens through the slats of the wood. Rick ached inside, an emotionally draining experience that he wasn’t used to, and as he slowly sat on the couch a few feet from Morty, the shocked, ashen, bloody face of his ward kept flashing through his mind.

“Morty.”

“Hm.”

Rick reached forward, faltered, his gnarled hand centimeters from Morty’s shoulder. He withdrew and suppressed a tired sigh, “W-when did you wake up?”

“Mm-mm…” Morty half-turned, his brown eyes deep and dark in the low light as he shrugged at Rick, “Dunno.”

“Are you—”

“I—” Morty turned back toward the window, and he shuddered, visible goosebumps coating his exposed skin, “I d-don’t want to t-t-talk, r-right now.”

Morty’s voice sounded so dull and broken, Rick nearly reached forward to shake him, but instead when he stretched his hands forward again, he simply wrapped his fingers around the small shoulders and squeezed, pulling back gently. “Then don’t talk. But you need to stay warm.”

“I’m warm enough!”

“Y-you’re not.”

As if on cue, Jessica entered the room with her arms filled with blankets. She set them beside Rick on the couch and stretched her arms above her head. She had changed into all black clothes, and her vibrant hair was tied back away from her face. “Rick. Morty. Donna Smi—”

“Just Summer, Jess.” Summer appeared behind her, also dressed in black, her long hair tied back into two tight cornrows, “I’m not in charge of a gang anymore…honorifics are unnecessary.”  Summer sympathetically looked at the back of Morty’s head and blew him a kiss, “Morty, we’re leaving for a bit. Jessica and I are going to go pick up something, and then we’ll be back.”

Morty turned finally to look at his sister. His eyes were wet, but his expression remained neutral as he gazed up at her, “I understand.” His jaw suddenly tightened, “Please return safely.”

“We will—” Jessica clasped Summer’s shoulder and smiled at Morty kindly, “Morty, I will protect your sister. I will bring her back to you, I promise.”

Morty nodded curtly and then turned toward the window again.

The women exchanged worried looks, but Rick waved his hand at them as he stood from the couch, “I’ll lock the door behind you…”

As he followed them out to the door, Summer turned to him once they were out of earshot and taking his hands in her own, squeezed them tightly, “Rick, will he—”

“It was a serious wound, and…h-he was in a lot of pain.” Rick untangled his fingers from Summer’s grasp and firmly pushed her toward the door. “Y-you and Jessica have to focus on your task right now. I’ll t-take care of Morty.”

“But—”

Rick struggled to retain La Severa. He was not used to being questioned constantly. “Summer.” He growled her name, but then altered his tone and tried again, softer, but still annoyed, “Summer, I…I _care_ about Morty. Intensely. I will take care of him.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Summer, who pulled on her hood, nodded at him one last time, and then followed Jessica out into the driveway where the car was parked.

When Rick returned to the parlor, Morty had left his seat and was hunched closer to the window, his hand braced against the wall for support as the other clutched at his chest. His breathing was rapid, heavy, choked with unshed tears, and as Rick recognized the signs of hyperventilation he sprinted toward the boy and gathered him into his chest.

He didn’t count on Morty fighting him.

“NO!” Morty’s fist collided with Rick’s jaw in a clumsy connection, but it still rattled Rick’s teeth as he pulled Morty away from the window and toward the couch.

“M-morty, y-you need to—guuuff—!” Morty’s flailing legs connected with his groin and Rick fell backward, landing heavily on the carpeted floor and dragging Morty with him.

Spurred on by minor success, Morty twisted and pounded his fists against Rick on their way down, straddling his mentor’s abdomen, grabbing the front of his shirt, shaking the old man violently against the floor, tears streaming from his face. His expression was a twisted mask of horror and anguish, and even as Morty used his fists to pummel Rick, the enforcer reached up, and despite the blows, tenderly cupped Morty’s face.

Morty pushed the hand away and slapped him, but Rick caught his hand after the blow and pressed it to his mouth, kissing him firmly until Morty pulled his hand away only to hit him again. Breathless, the teenager planted his hands on either side of Rick’s head, bending over as he panted miserably.

“Ri-rick it hurts—it hurts, I can’t—I’m—w-w-when I close my eyes—the g-gun—Rick it hurts—” Morty clutched at his chest again, before grabbing Rick’s hand and placing it over the spot where his wound had been. Morty pressed Rick’s hand against his chest, digging his nails into the tough skin on the back of his knuckles, pressing the bony hand hard enough against his body that they both hurt. “It’s—the pain, it’s driving me mad, Rick, but if it’s—if it’s from you, I can take it—press here—” Morty’s voice was shrill and desperate, “Push, Rick, dig your finger into me like-like-like—”

Rick flipped them together, shoved Morty firmly to the carpeted floor, sat on his groin and hunched over. When he ripped open Morty's dress shirt, stiff from brown dried blood, and pressed the heel of his warm palm into the ridged scar, Morty cried out desperately in release and fell back against the floor.

"I'm here doll," Rick rubbed into the scar firmly, enough that he knew it would hurt again, leaning down to press kisses against Morty's sweat covered forehead.

"Rick—" Morty arched into his touch, and half-heartedly tried to scrub away the tears that dribbled from his eyes, but Rick pushed his hand away and kissed him.

"Cry for me, babe, c'mon...d-don’t hide."

"Agcch—!" A single choked sob, and finally Morty relaxed, staring moony-eyed up at Rick, his hiccuped breathing slowly returning to normal as tears continued to stream from the corners of his eyes down to the carpet beneath him.

Rick held his gaze, and inwardly hoped he looked comforting—he didn't often comfort people. He knew he had a hard face; he looked scarier—wilder than most Rick's…but his self loathing was interrupted as Morty reached up and pulled him down, until Rick was laying flush against Morty, his arm curled up between them, palming Morty's warm skin where a familiar heartbeat drummed calmly once again.

"I'm embarrassed of myself, boss—" Morty whispered his words against Rick's neck, "I'm so weak tonight. I'm sor—"

"Don't you daaare, don't say you're sorry, Morty—"

"I won't, but I am." Morty gripped Rick fiercely, the pain in his chest beginning to subside from the pressure Rick applied. “I'll get better soon, right?"

"Yes," Rick lied, and rushed forward with another kiss, his thumb agitating the scar, as his tongue pressed insistently into Morty’s open mouth.

The blood the boy had coughed up hours earlier still flavored his mouth with the tangy, metallic taste of human wounds, and Rick relished it—lapping at his lips with demanding kisses as Morty shivered into him, groaning sweetly and sighing.

“Rick—”

“Morty.”

They rolled over again, Morty lying on top of Rick’s chest as he ground himself against the old man, “Make me forget—”

“I will.” Rick sat up and cradled Morty in his arms, bringing him to the couch, before depositing the boy onto the cushions and dropping to his knees. Leaning forward into Morty from his position between his legs, Rick began to efficiently strip him from his clothes. Bruises in various phases of fading peppered his youthful skin. Splotched stains of old dried blood fanned out from the healed wound in his chest. He smelled like sweat and gunpowder and blood and salt, and Rick pressed his face against Morty’s now-naked stomach to breathe him in.

“Dearest—” the term of endearment sounded strange in his young voice, but it flowed so naturally Morty wondered why he had never referred to Rick thusly before.

Rick growled in response, his lips moving firmly against the soft hairs of Morty’s thin happy trail as his busy hands undid his lower garments, and with a terse command, “Lift,” he slid them out from under Morty and down the boy’s legs, pushing them off his feet, along with his socks, leaving him naked; illuminated by candle light and keening for Rick.

Rick licked at the blood, at the dirt, he traced the paths of sweat that left twisting trails through the grime on Morty’s skin with his tongue. Morty protested and asked for a shower first, but Rick shushed him and cemented his mouth over the scar as Morty groaned and clasped his hands around Rick’s head to pull him even closer.

Rick’s hand palmed the inside of Morty’s thigh and moved inward, teasingly, achingly slowly, when Rick spoke his voice was husky and deep with want, “Y-you get off on pain a little, huh?”

“Mmmnn—”

“Huhhh?” Rick pinched him hard and snickered when Morty yelped and his cock hardened further. “Mhmm, it’s—it’s a good look on you, angel.” Rick pulled back to look at him, to look at his Morty.

The face that beamed back at him was relaxed, exhausted too, perhaps, but free of the horrible anguish that filled it only a little while ago.

Rick sank down on to his heels, his mouth following his hand, wrapping his lips around the head of Morty’s quivering length as he groaned Rick’s name over and over into the silent room. The gnarled fingers pushed his legs wider apart, and slipped beneath him, rubbing against his ass, dry and persistent as Morty squirmed at the pressure and tugged on Rick’s hair.

“Riiick—”

“Mmm?”

“Fingerrrsss—”

Rick pressed into him harder, and then laughed around the cock in his mouth as Morty yanked on his hair in retaliation. He lifted up and fixed Morty with as stern a glare as he could currently manage, “Behave, or I’ll toss you over the arm of this couch.”

A smirk pulled the corners of Morty’s mouth and he pulled on Rick’s hair again. It proved to be a mistake.

Standing abruptly, Rick snatched Morty’s hands off his hair before darting forward and grabbing him by the neck; dragging, then shoving the teenager off the couch and toward the aforementioned armrest. He was unceremoniously bent over it as La Severa snarled behind him and grasped his balls with a vice grip.  

“I warned you—” Rick squeezed tighter, hearing Morty beneath him yelp in pain at the pressure, “Y-you think you can fuck with me j-just ‘cuz you’re fuckin me, boy?”

“No sir—yeeEOOhhh!!”

Rick had moved his hands to grab Morty’s ass and pry it apart as wide as he could, thrusting his pants-covered, partially hard length up against the squirming teen, “Shut up.” He spat directly onto the puckered little hole and rubbed a quick circle with his thumb before callously popping it in, keeping a tight grip on Morty who tried to wiggle away as he gasped and whined and complained.

“Sshhould rip you in half, Morty—d-did’ya forget I was a dangerous man?” Rick curled his thumb, massaging, coaxing the tight entrance open.

Morty’s griping turned into groans of pained pleasure as Rick mercilessly pumped his thumb in and out of the tight, barely wet hole. The old enforcer leaned over him and bit Morty’s shoulder, eliciting a deep, long groan of approval.

“Riiiick, please—”

“Don’t you ‘Rick please’ me—” Rick removed his thumb to unzip his pants and pull his cock out. He pressed himself against Morty while his hands roamed over the smooth skin before him. “Y-you ought’a be taught not to disrespect me like that, hm?”

“Hnnn—ah, bosssss—” Morty half twisted, his face turning to glance up at Severa behind him. His face was flushed red and his tongue licked his lips anxiously.

Rick smirked and pushed harder against him, biting his lip in pleasure as Morty yelped again. He was way too tight. Taking a step back, Rick pulled Morty up and then pushed him down on his knees. With a huge hand tangled in his brown curls, he tugged Morty’s face into his crotch, “I’m f-feeling merciful, doll. Go ahead, g-g-get sucking.”

Morty barely needed encouragement. He quickly licked his own hand before leaning forward enthusiastically and clamped his mouth onto Rick’s shaft, drool leaking from his lips as he bobbed his head up and down. His wet hand wandered behind himself where he gently rubbed his fingers into his own ass, stretching himself out, knowing full well that the cock he was lubricating with his saliva was getting shoved up his ass whether it fit or not.

There was something particularly stimulating too, about being on his knees, completely naked, servicing Rick while the latter was still fully dressed; the hand in his curls hadn’t released him, he was held firm, and damn if it didn’t feel good. With his free hand he jacked off the rest of Rick’s shaft that he couldn’t cram down his throat, and coyly looked up at Rick from his position on the floor.

“Mmhmm…” a deep groan rumbled through Rick’s chest and his hand tangled in Morty’s hair switched from clutching to caressing. “G-gonna—mm…gonna make you start waking me up like this, baby.”

Morty smiled around his dick and hummed in approval, but as soon as he was really getting into what was an increasingly sloppy blow job, Rick pulled him off, yanked him up, pushed him back over the arm of the couch and leaned over him, thick wet cock massaging firmly into the cleft of his ass.

“Mortyyy,” La Severa grinned as he said the name, “D-do you remember what I said I was going to do to you last time?”

Morty did. He paled, turning his head to glance back fearfully, “Rick, b-b-but-but”

“S-said I was gonna make you scream, kid.” He dropped his voice to a deep throated whisper as his lips rubbed against Morty’s ear, “And I always keep my promises.”

Rick grabbed his cock and angled it into Morty, pressing hard, holding the boy’s hips still with his other hand, biting back a gruff moan of his own at the tight fit. Morty shrieked when the tip popped in and as Rick steadily shoved his way in, brutally stretching Morty out faster than the last time, the teenager, as promised, yelled in pain. But when Rick was fully hilted, the yell turned into a long, low groan as Morty slowly became accustomed to his size. Rick’s tender hands smoothing across Morty’s back, tracing the vertebrae of his back and the outlines of his shoulder blade betrayed the old man’s true affections for Morty.

The moment Rick could see Morty had adjusted, however slightly, he pulled back and slammed home, prompting an agonized screech and a loud protest from his ward as he began a punishing rhythm; hooking one hand around Morty’s shoulder to pull him in for leverage, and using the other to reach around and grasp his still-hard cock.

“Yeah, l-lemme hear you, dollface—” Rick panted with effort as he thrust into Morty, desperately, frantically, as if this would be the last time he would have Morty this way—and perhaps it was.

“God—” Morty felt his tongue loll out of his mouth as he wheezed, dragging air into his lungs, clutching the couch for balance and for comfort as his lover painfully drilled him into the arm of the couch. Just as he was finally managing to get comfortable in this position, Rick suddenly pulled completely out, walked out from behind him and sat on the couch. When Morty looked up in confusion, Rick reached forward, patted his cheek none-too-gently, and then pointed at his cock still standing at attention.

“Sit.”

Morty pushed up from his position with some difficulty, and stumbled over to Rick, off-balance and clumsy. Strong hands pulled him him forward but then, straddling Rick’s lap, he was guided slowly and smoothly down, his weight supported gently. After being handled so roughly the switch was jarring--all the more so because of Rick’s steady, even expression throughout.

“O-oohh--” Morty gasped, a shock wave of tingles washing over him as Rick ground his cockhead against a tight bundle of nerves, “...ohh-hhRrrick--”

Rick didn’t respond, only tenderly, carefully lowered Morty onto him, listening to the stuttering, hi-pitched moaning Morty dribbled from a wide grin until he was seated flush against his lap. It was Rick’s turn to groan at the tight, clenching asshole that squeezed him to oblivion. His arms wrapped around Morty, hugging him into his chest tightly, their bodies fitting into each other’s crevices as Rick mouthed the scar on the young chest and spoke low and quiet.

“You saved my life Morty.” He kissed the ridged scar, “I...belong to you...a-as much as you belong to me. You’re more than my shield, d-do you understand?” Rick clasped him tighter, holding him fiercely, “Morty, I-I…”

Slouching backward slightly, just enough so he could press his hands to Rick’s bony cheeks and stare down into his face. “I know, Rick,” Morty grinned at him, his vision swimming, “me too.”

Rick furrowed his brow at Morty, rocking his hips, moving just a few centimeters, “Move with me, baby-” he assisted with the rhythm, letting Morty control the pace this time while he jacked himself off, but still fucking him deeply, forcing his young partner to feel him in his entirety. When Rick clasped the back of Morty’s sweaty neck and kissed him, they both melted into the embrace, and Rick suddenly seized the lithe hips again, humping up into Morty as he sucked on his tongue, and groaned, and growled. His thrusts became erratic, and as he felt himself about to finish, he released Morty’s mouth and leaned back. Slapping Morty’s hand away, Rick grabbed his cock and pumped energetically, grinning up at Morty, “Come for me, angel.”

The petname was really what did it. Morty darted forward with both hands and grasped Rick’s shoulders as he shuddered, yelped hoarsely and then shot his load onto Rick’s shirt and hand. Rick brought his messy hand to his mouth and licked the fluid off as he fucked Morty harder, faster, and with a low grunt, finally came. Collapsing backward, Rick fell against the back of the couch with his eyes closed, tiredly assisting Morty in climbing off his lap, but then pulling him against his chest.

“Morty, y-you--” Rick pet the back of his head as he caught his breath, “are you alright?”

Morty nodded against him, his muffled voice murmuring against Rick’s sweaty chest, “I’m r-real swell, heh--” he giggled softly, before sighing deeply and leaning into Rick. “W-will we make it out of this mess, Rick?”

“Yes, doll.” Rick opened his eyes now, to stare down at the boy cemented against him. “I promise we will.”

 

* * *

 

 

Summer knelt beside the edge of the road, obscured by trees. Two high pitched whistles made her run, quick and low, across the empty street, to duck away from the gate lights and scale the metal fence. As she dropped down, she fell into Jessica’s waiting arms.

Without speaking, Jessica motioned toward the warehouse, a few rooms dimly lit, but otherwise quiet. Nodding, Summer followed her closely and they ran together, threading through the campus, arriving at the main building, and pausing beside window to kneel once more. Summer grabbed her pistol and kept guard as Jessica deftly picked the lock, opened the window and stepped inside. She helped Summer in, and as they closed the window and turned, they each exhaled softly in relief.

Jessica drew her weapon to match Summer, and carefully tiptoeing, each carefully watching their surroundings, the women snuck through the halls, deeper into the warehouse, and ever closer to both liberation and danger.


	9. Bullets and Beaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the final chapter of the Ricking Twenties. I'm sorry it is so late.
> 
> This was my all-time favorite fanfiction story I ever wrote. (and I've been writing godawful fanfiction for a while haha) Thank you for coming along for the journey. I've said it a few times, but the credit for the inspiration of these characters is from a lovely artist on tumblr who goes by chuubunii.tumblr.com who first invented the idea of Mobster Rick and Orphan Boy Morty. I began writing this for them as a birthday present and then accidentally turned it into a ridiculous year-long multi-chapter mystery fic. (sorry Chuub I love you)
> 
> I hope you like the end of this adventure. Thank you again for reading <3

Voices in other areas of the warehouse made the hairs on the back of Summer’s neck rise in trepidation. As she followed Jessica through halls she once ruled over, the irony of her situation was not lost on her. Her plan had been straightforward—stay to the fringes of criminal activity and build a network of predominately female henchmen in order to avoid arousing suspicion: check. Align with powerful figures and manipulate them to her own ends, i.e. D and the city’s first female mayor: check. Seek out and find biological brother from this dimension if he is alive, and if alive, save him: well, almost check.

Her takeover of the city had been swift, and yet, her fall from power, swifter still. But Summer was not as disappointed as she expected to be. Rather, the rediscovery of her brother more than made up for the loss of her empire, and really, with Jess by her side, she’d never truly be alone anyway. Summer smiled to herself as she watched her partner stealthily maneuver through the halls. Summer had found Jessica accidentally, while robbing the home of a wealthy industrialist. The portal gun she had been using malfunctioned during the theft, and when she escaped upstairs and hid in a random room, it turned out to be the bedroom of the beautiful young socialite daughter who lived in the home. Jessica had hidden Summer beneath her bed when the police arrived, and after they left, begged Summer to take her along once Summer got the portal gun working again. Despite her pampered upbringing, Jessica threw herself into the life of crime, and was a talented (and well connected) asset to Summer’s burgeoning gang.

And so Summer soon became Donna Smith, in charge of her very own ruthless gang of thugs, and Jessica Jean Rockefeller became simply Jess—the Donna’s right hand and a sneaky, cunning enforcer in her own right.

“Summer—”

Jess’ hushed voice beckoned Summer to her side and she peered around a corner into a room that was dimly lit and housed a dozing guard. Past the guard and beyond this room lay the vault where Summer kept Citadel technology, as well as every portal gun she’d stolen thus far…including her original.

Summer recognized the guard sleeping on duty, Elle-May, a hired thug from up north that Tammy had selected herself…doubtless she was loyal to Tammy and Tammy alone. Summer turned to Jess to caution silence, but Jess took her measured expression as a command, and leapt into the room, her quiet feet padding up to the unaware guard.

Before Summer could call her back, the talented redhead had slipped a garrote around Elle-May’s neck, and a few strained, strangled gasps later, the guard’s limp body was gently arranged in the chair to look as if she was still sleeping with her head resting on her arms.

“Jess!” Summer’s whisper was hoarse and accusatory as she snuck into the room along with Jess and they made their way into the room holding the vault. Coming up alongside her partner, Summer frowned as she whispered, “That was unnecessary.”

“Sorry.” Jess said. But she seemed distinctly unapologetic.

Summer didn’t press the issue—they hadn’t time, and quickly walked up to the vault. She bit her lip as she hesitated before the safelock. Doubtlessly Tammy had already changed the combination; but they had no other choice but to try and get into the vault. Nodding at Jess behind her, Summer began punching in the last key code she remembered as Jess prepared Plan B off to the side. Immediately, blaring alarms began screaming throughout the warehouse, and Summer sighed in disappointment.

“Jess, you’re up.”

“Affirmative.” Unwrapping the neat little homemade explosive she’d created back at the safe house, Jess placed it at the foot of the vault door, activated it, and then she and Summer hustled back into the hallway and shut the door.

When the small bomb detonated, the entire building shook to its very foundations, and Jess had to dodge a piece of ceiling tile that dislodged and nearly fell on top of the girls’ hiding spot. But despite the chaos, they were prepared for the noise and the debris, and once the dust began to settle, they picked their way among the broken concrete and splintered wood back into the room. Inside, the vault was blown apart, destroyed metal peeled back revealing dozens of portal guns, bloody Citadel pins and other macabre trophies from murdered Ricks Summer had collected over the years. Knowing what she knew now, and after spending time with a Rick who was halfway decent, the display made Summer feel a bit ill over her past actions.

“Summer.”

Jess’ firm voice shocked her back to reality, and Summer hurriedly located _her_ Rick’s old portal gun: carefully stashed away in a special case. Footsteps and voices echoed through the hallways as their old gang roused themselves to investigate the explosion. Punching in the coordinates to the safe house, Summer aimed and opened a portal just as the first guard rounded the corner and began shooting. Both women leapt to safety through the portal, before dropping unceremoniously out the other side onto the dry brown grass beside the front porch steps. Jess got her bearings first and rose to her feet, helping Summer stand, and then turned toward the steps, eager to return.

The sky was growing brighter as dawn broke. The sunrise behind the house framed the deteriorated manor in pink light as Summer reached out and grasped Jess by the arm before she could make her way inside.

“Jess, wait—” Summer clumsily fumbled in her jacket pocket searching for, and quickly finding the little velvet bag she’d been carrying around for months. Summer awkwardly gripped the bag in her fist and taking Jess’ arm with her free hand, she gestured at the porch steps, “I need to—well, I mean—”

Concern flooded Jess’ face and she clasped her hand over Summer’s hand that held her arm, “Summer, what’s wrong!?”

“Nothing!” Summer convinced her to sit and sat as well, one step beneath her. “Nothing, I swear, really, I—” Summer heard her voice stretch an octave higher and attempted in vain to control it, “I just want to talk to you…” Summer moved her hand to Jess’ knee and leaned close, her eyes earnest and unblinking, “We’re in terrible danger, and—and I know the rest of the Calor Gang is on it’s way—”

“Well, yes, and the FBI, and the Federation, and the Citadel, and—”

“—yes, _and_ that’s the reason why I need to—” Summer leaned forward and rested her head against the bony edge of Jess’ knee and breathed in deeply. She smelled like gunpowder; it was an oddly comforting scent. “I need to tell you—before anything else happens…”

“Tell me _what_ Summer?”

Summer looked up, and met Jess’ eyes from her position beneath her, “Tell you that—that I lost my breath the first time I saw you, and I’ve been chasing it ever since. I never wanted you to be my subordinate, Jess, you are so, so much more than that to me. If we… _when_ we make it out of this…” Summer opened the little bag and dug out the thin, gold ring topped with a pearl, “Let’s get married, my love. I want to spend the rest of my life breathless in your presence.”

“Summer,” Jess’ normally cool and reserved expression broke into stunned surprise, and her cheeks flushed, “Ohhh, my darling—”

“Jessica Jean Rockefeller, marry me!”

“Yes!” Jess offered her hand, fingers splayed, and Summer slid the ring onto her finger, reverently kissing her knuckles before Jess snatched her hand away to fully embrace Summer face-to-face.

Their tenderness was cut short when the front door banged open and a rifle was pointed at them. Rick’s fatigued face relaxed slightly when he recognized who was on the steps and he lowered his weapon.

“I-if you two are _done_ , it’d be nice t-to have some help boarding up this tissue paper box you call a house, Summer.”

Before Summer could respond, Jess was standing and agreeing. “He’s right Summer. We’re operating on no sleep, little food, and an attack is inevitable.”

“Fine, fine!” Summer scrambled to her feet and followed her fiancé and Rick inside, cursing under her breath as she went.

The inside of the house was lit with candles and whatever sunshine managed to streak through the wooden boards over the windows. Morty was curled up on a different couch, in different clothes, but he still looked emotionally wrought and physically broken. Still, when he heard them come in, he did turn with a grin and offered a wave to Summer.

“Hey sis. How-how’d the mission go?”

Lifting the recaptured portal gun Summer returned his smile. “I’d say it was a success.”

Rick nodded toward the dining room, “L-let’s regroup at the table—we need to make some plans and we don’t have much time.”

Morty slowly got to his feet, walking awkwardly into the hallway, and Summer stifled an annoyed groan as she guessed what exactly had caused Morty to walk that way. Inside the dining room, Morty and Rick had clearly been busy in Summer and Jess’ absence. Weapons, tools, a few articles of clothing like coats and extra boots they’d managed to find inside the house were neatly arranged at one end of the six-foot table. The massive front-facing window that normally filled the entire room with bright light and provided an excellent view of the sunset in the evenings was covered by wooden boards scavenged from extra chairs, cabinet doors and doors from upstairs. At the other end of the table where Rick and Morty were taking their seats were a few maps, a few extra pistols and Rick’s discarded Citadel pin.

“Ha-have a seat.” Rick flipped open a larger, strange looking map that appeared to be hundreds of parallel lines running down the length of the paper. Rick indicated a few that were marked with red, “th-these are some parallel dimensions we can jump into that do not have a Citadel presence. Most of them have Earths, b-but there are also enough planets in these dimensions that have similar earth environments that would be suitable.” Rick looked up at Summer to his right and kept his voice neutral, “We only have one portal gun. If you and Jess prefer to split up, Morty and I have our location picked where y-you can drop us off… I’ll build a new portal gun in a few months.”

As distasteful as it was to be forced to travel with a Rick, Summer shook her head hard. “No, let’s stay together. At least for now… She looked over at Morty across from her and held his gaze, “I’m not going to lose you again so quickly.”

Morty nodded at her, “I w-was hoping w-w-we’d stick together too, Summer.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Rick reached over some papers to grab a thin book and after opening it, laid it flat against the table, “N-not sure if you’d prefer Earth or not, but this planet, Aybay is very warm and v-very quiet. Welcoming to extra-terrestrials, technologically advanced, some g-great beaches… it’s at least a good place to start when we leave here.”

Jess’ face took on a dreamy expression, “It’s been years since I’ve been to a beach, I like the idea. Summer?”

Could it really be real? Was relief and safety that easy? That _close_? Summer felt herself smile, “Yes, let’s—”

“Wait, shhh--!” Morty silenced the room and quirked his head toward the wall, his face pale with worry, “I hear cars. Th-they’re here—”

Jess was on her feet first, “MOVE! We—“

But she never finished her sentence as the first wave of bullets rattled into the house, puncturing the boards over the window, forcing all four to drop to the ground. The sound of a hailstorm of bullets was terrifying enough, but when a long, angry wail rose up from Summer, Morty was chilled to the bone. Lifting his head up he stared over at Summer, who was holding the portal gun in her hands, sparks flying out of a small round bullet hole.

“NO!”

Rick crawled on his hands and knees toward the other end of the room, “Focus! Every-everybody fucking FOCUS—I have tools, I can fix it, but I need time!”

Morty felt the cold metal of a pistol being shoved into his hand as Jess simultaneously dragged him toward the window, “Morty, c’mon!’

Sucking in breath till his chest ached, and exhaling hard, Morty forcibly ignored his thundering pulse, rose up on his knees, aimed between the slats of the boards over the window and began firing.

Summer passed the broken portal gun to Rick among the commotion and inched her way to the threshold. “If you don’t fix that soon we’ll need to leave by car—I’ll grab the key—everyone meet at the pantry back door in three minutes flat!”

When everyone shouted their ascent, the group jumped into action. Summer disappeared deeper into the house, weaving her way around furniture as the house continued to withstand heavy fire.

Rick knelt against the floor, shielding their last method of escape with his own body as he tried to fix the broken portal gun, while Morty and Jess took positions at the window. They took turns crouching and standing, providing cover fire and keeping their would-be attackers at bay…for now.

Bullets pierced the walls and shattered glass, raining sparkling debris on the occupants as they each struggled in their individual tasks.

“Shit!” Rick winced as a bullet whizzed by his ear and scooping up his tools he retreated further into the room, tipping over the table and sitting behind it as he listened to Morty and Jess shout to each other over the cacophony.

“Rick! Status?”

“Another minute!”

“Augh!” Morty dodged a sharp, shattered fragment of wood that went careening by his body, reloaded, tapped Jess on the shoulder, and as she ducked to reload her own weapon, he stood and fired out the window.

“We can only give you a few more seconds at most!” Jess scanned the room, searching for a possible breach that their enemies might take advantage of, “Morty, we gotta move, this room is going to be compromised soon.”

In response, Morty crouched down beside her and nodded, “I’ve g-got an idea—it’s terrible, but it could buy us time…”

Nodding, Jess eyed the window apprehensively, “Let’s do it. We don’t have a lot of choices right now.”

“Okay, cover Rick, we need to move to the kitchen. Summer should have found the key by now—”

“—and then we meet her outside, got it.”

“The next pause, we move.”

Jess and Morty waited with tensed muscles, and as the bullets ceased for a fraction of a second, they bolted. Jess rolled to where Rick was hiding behind the table, helped him grab the rest of his tools, and they ran to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Morty beat them to the kitchen, and turned the gas stove burners on, before blowing out the pilot light on each burner. With gas leaking into the kitchen, he screamed up the stairs that Summer had officially run out of time and they needed to move.

Moments later, the front of the house where the dining room was, caved in from structural damage, and the deafening noise was followed by clouds of dust that wafted through the house as the walls shuddered. While Rick returned to hurriedly trying to repair the damaged portal gun, Morty and Jess took up their positions once more, now at the bay window at the front of the kitchen.

Outside, Tammy was anxiously waiting for the missile launcher that was arriving via special delivery from the FBI. It was annoying that despite having better firepower, they were still being kept back by the skillful aim of two shooters in the house. Tammy guessed at least one was Jessica given that she had managed to kill at least a dozen Gromflomites in under a minute. She breathed a sigh of relief when the tell-tale rumble of a tank began to drum up behind her.

“Fuckin’ finally.” But as she turned, the formidable vehicle was adorned not with the white and gold of the Calor Gang, but the bright blue of the Citadel.

“Reinforcements to the back! It’s the Citadel!” Aiming her rifle, Tammy took up position with a furious grimace and began to fire away from the house, and toward the newcomers.

Inside the kitchen, Rick also heard the rumble of tank treads but recognized them where Tammy hadn’t, and sighed as concentrated on the delicate inner-workings of the portal gun in his lap. At least his old gang would keep the Gromflomites and FBI occupied for a moment while he attempted to fix their last chance. Rick quietly acknowledged to himself however that if the Citadel ended up having superior firepower and completely obliterated Tammy and her cavalry, it was only a matter of seconds before he, Morty, RedHead One and RedHead Two were toast as well.

Morty pulled his shirt over his nose, “Jess, don’t breathe the air, w-we can’t have anyone light-headed.”

“God’s bones!” Jess blocked her nose with her hand and narrowed her eyes, “You idiot! Did you turn the stove on!? One stray bullet and we explode!”

“I didn’t say I had a good idea, I just had an idea!”

The temporary lull in fire allowed them both to reload and take stock of their surroundings. Summer’s footsteps were pounding toward the back of the house, and it was the signal they needed to make another snap decision.

Jess crawled to Rick, “Our three minutes are up. You have to finish in the car. We move now, while our ‘friends’ outside resolve their differences.”

“Dammit.” Rick handed over a few things for Jess to carry as he wrapped up his parcel, tucked the portal gun beneath his arm and tapped Morty on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Roger that, boss.”

With Morty walking backward to provide possible cover fire, and Jess leading the way, Rick quickly sprinted between them as the three made their way through the long hallways to the back of the house.

The morning sunshine was blindingly bright. Just outside the pantry door, Summer was standing beside an already-on automobile, pointed out toward the old, dry wheat stalks behind the house.

Jess hopped down the steps without bothering to take them one at a time and wrenched open the door, gesticulating wildly for Rick and Morty to hurry the hell up. Rick cooperated and flung himself into the backseat where he rapidly began yet again, his task of fixing the portal gun. Morty clambered down the steps right after him, and as his foot left the final stair, a massive explosion boomed on the opposite side of the house, sending shockwaves that would’ve sent him careening face-first onto the ground if Jess’ quick reflexes hadn’t caught him last minute.

There was no time for words. Jess and Morty both climbed into the car, Summer yanked the gearshift, floored the pedal, and with a lurch, the car took off directly into the field.

Almost immediately after Summer had begun to drive, a bullet smashed into the sideview mirror, and Jess leaned out the window of the passenger seat to shoot back.

“Summer, we’re sitting ducks out here!”

“Hang on.” Summer hooked a sharp left, plowing through the dry vegetation. Another bullet hit the back of the car, and Morty hopped up on the backseat on his knees.

Shooting through the back window, Morty took out the driver of the first car, but the second whizzed around their fallen comrade and came barreling after the group. A stray bullet shot past his ear and shattered the windshield in front of Summer. His pulse began to race, and Morty crouched down in the backseat, heaving oxygen and willing himself to stay calm, even as he felt himself losing touch with his surroundings.

Beside him, Rick was silent, his fingers feverishly darting in and around the portal gun, twisting wires, ripping apart plastic dividers, and changing out crystalline circuit boards. The sight of the old man working tirelessly shocked Morty back to the present moment, and gathering his courage, he leaned back up on his knees and began shooting again.

Jess’ anxious voice cut through the commotion. “Summer turn—turn—TURN TURN TURN TUR—”

Whipping the steering wheel to the right, Summer narrowly avoided colliding with an abandoned tractor left to rust in the center of the field. The force of the turn brought the car up on two wheels, Rick slammed into Morty in the backseat, as everyone attempted to get their bearings as Summer balanced the car back out, twisted the steering wheel back, and continued to plow forward as one of the cars behind them smashed full-speed into the tractor.

“DONE.” Rick’s voice, clear and triumphant filled the car as he struggled to his feet in the bumpy car. Lunging forward, he pointed his portal gun out the windshield, and snatched Morty by the collar of his shirt. “Summer get ready to throw the emergency break in three…two…NOW!”

Summer’s high-heeled boot smashed into the brake pedal as she simultaneously smacked the emergency brake forward with her open palm. Rick shot a portal onto the ground immediately in front of the car as she did this, and the g-forces of the sudden stop pulled all four right through the windshield of the car onto the hood. Rick’s weight effectively dragged Morty through the back seat into the front and out the shattered windshield, where broken glass stabbed at his palms. Jess slid off the hood first and dove headfirst into the portal, followed by Summer and finally Rick, tugging Morty along by his shirt.

As he plunged into the swirling green vortex, the last thing Morty saw from his old life was guns pointed at him as a scientific maelstrom of light carried him far away.

 

* * *

 

_*Epilogue*_

 

“These look kinda like peonies.”

Rick grunted in response as Morty pinned the flower to his chest with careful fingers. “I—hic—I think it’s really p-pretty ridiculous we’re adhering to traditional formalities.”

Morty rolled his eyes as a waft of Rick’s drunken breath floated past his nose. “Y-y-you just have to look nice for a few hours, g-golly Rick.”

Behind their conversation, the waves outside rolled and crashed against the deep red sands of the beach. It had taken two months to finish building a house big enough for the four of them to all have their own space, but it had been worth it. The planet Aybay was indeed quiet—home to mostly intelligent plant life and aquatic beings who kept to themselves and didn’t mind visitors as long as they were quiet and unobtrusive. The planet was at the farthest outskirts of the galaxy and although a wave of unease would sometimes come over him, Morty had slowly begun to check over his shoulder less and less as time rolled on. He was safe. Rick was safe. Summer and Jessica were with them and safe.

In under two years Morty had lost two homes, gained new scars, reunited with his lost family and discovered a deep, unyielding passion that exceeded any love he had ever known.

Growing sentimental as he thought over the past few months, Morty leaned forward and pressed his forehead into Rick’s chest, but Rick brushed him off.

“C-come _on_ , Morty…” Rick tapped his chin with his fist and smirked, “Y-y-you haven’t turned me into that much of a softy yet.”

“Yet, huh?” Morty smiled up at him, “Sooo, that means it’s an in-in-inevit-inevitable conclusion.”

“Shut up.”

“Y-you can’t tell me to shut up, Rick, it’s—”

“Hey, you guys ready?”

They turned to see the pretty alien waving at them from across the hall.

“Yes—coming!”

Morty wrapped his hands around Rick’s upper arm, even as the old man groaned sarcastically at the affection, and together they walked out onto the beach where the guests were waiting. Standing before the small semi-circle of chairs, Summer stood with her back to the ocean, her hair loose and tossed by the wind as she held her white dress with one hand.

Rick and Morty took their seats just moments before audible gasps rose to welcome Jess—clad also in white, her short hair pinned with seashells.

The wedding was short and sweet: just two young women standing alone before the sky and sea, professing their love for one another. And as the small party on the beach that followed began to wind down, Morty found himself seated beside Rick on the beach; their bare feet stretched out to touch the lapping waves with their toes.

Morty opened his mouth to speak, but the breeze, and scent of ocean, and warmth of Rick sitting so close to him was too perfect to break. He closed his lips and instead put his hand over Rick’s as he leaned over and pecked his cheek.

Rick lifted his arm and wrapped it around the boy, pulling him into his side and squeezing him close.

“A-are you always going to be this sappy?”

“No, only at weddings.” Morty answered with a cheeky grin. “A-and I suppose if you give me a reason to be—which I don’t predict happening.”

Rick turned partially and holding Morty close, pressed his lips warmly against Morty’s mouth before pulling back just enough to whisper, “I love you, doll. B-betchya d-didn’t predict _that_.”

He hadn’t. Morty felt himself flush bright red as he giggled into Rick’s embrace and the waves moved closer to the shore.

**Author's Note:**

> I did some basic slang research for this fic, but if any history buffs read this, I'm sorry because there's probably so much wrong information haha. On tumblr I am ricksbitchmorty come find me and say hi if you like!


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